


Raison d'être

by blingblingis



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, F/M, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, also don't smoke it's not good for you, comfort sex in chapter 5, fem reader - Freeform, light angst in chapter 3, pls use condoms kids, thanks for sticking around guys!, very light dom/sub undertones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2018-12-19 16:53:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 47,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11902047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blingblingis/pseuds/blingblingis
Summary: Four connected one shots set after Reflections.





	1. Winter

**Author's Note:**

> You can find my tumblr [here](http://minakushi.tumblr.com/) feel free to ask me anything!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo Shimada kissed you six months ago. He stole both the breath from your lungs and your heart as well. And then he ran. Now he shows up quite literally on your doorstep, so what's a girl to do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first foray into the Overwatch Fandom! This piece will *most likely* evolve into a four part smut fic and *maybe* into a full-length multi chap fic if this one is well received.
> 
> You can find my tumblr [here!](http://minakushi.tumblr.com/)

A brisk winter wind whipped across your cheeks and lifted the loose strands of your hair. Shivering you pulled your coat tighter, crossing your arms to keep the warmth. You were heading back to the flat you had rented after viewing the lights the city had put up for the holidays. Something about this time of year was always so magical to you. Even with no one to spend the days with you felt a sense of peace when you looked out the window to see snow falling in fat white flakes.

Unfortunately no snow had fallen in days, what was left of the last storm was muddy slosh on the grass and dirty snow pushed to the sides of the road. Thus your late night adventure to see the lights, to bring some semblance of beauty and majesty to the world.

After the Recall all Overwatch agents had been hard at work, so it was surprising that they were given any sort of off-time for the holidays. Though you supposed that keeping highly trained warriors cooped up against their will during what was supposed to be a time for family was likely to get you shot. Commander Morrison had told all of you to “get lost. Literally, metaphorically, whatever, just don’t let me catch you around here until next year.” You figured that was his gruff, father-like way of saying that you all deserved a break, so you decided to follow his command.

And that brought you here, to a city you’d never been to, but always heard about. A city where the winter months were white and the festivities lasted well into the New Year. You had needed to get out of the base anyway. Things had been awkward between you and Hanzo, to say the least. He had kissed you nearly six months ago, under the summer fireworks. Kissed you like he had been holding himself back from doing it for ages, stole the breath from your lungs and made your head spin. Then he had pulled away from you like your touch burned. Turned from you and apologized before leaving.

It wasn’t as if you had had no feelings for him before that moment, but he had made you want and yearn for the first time in years. He had awakened something within you you had thought long dead. And then he had just left. Left you empty and alone and confused. Before that he had shown small signs of letting you in, the two of you had gotten closer if only just as much as his battered soul would allow. That kiss made you realize that you weren’t just attracted to him; you were in love with him.

The revelation alone had been enough to shake you, but then he had gone and put his walls back up. Not necessarily blocking you out entirely, but all your subsequent interactions had been stiff and almost businesslike in their impersonality. You didn’t push him, however, and he seemed grateful for that. The first time you saw each other after your kiss he breathed an audible sigh of relief when the first thing you said to him wasn’t a demand for an explanation.

The man still had some issues to work out, and you respected that. Besides, getting involved with him then could potentially have doomed the relationship before it even began. So you have him space. Let him figure out how he felt, and what he wanted. You both needed time, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t hard. It was difficult to see him and not remember how his hands felt in your hair. It was even more difficult to hear him speak and not remember how his lips had felt against your own.

So after months of tense conversations and awkward missions it was safe to say you needed a break. You had never really liked the city, but it was bright and beautiful and distracting. More importantly it was big enough to get lost in. It was someplace no one knew or cared who you were. You could be surrounded by a million people, enough to make you feel less alone and too many for any of them to care to intrude on your thoughts and feelings. It was a good distraction and a good place to forget to dwell on your own worries.

Shaking your head to clear your thoughts you looked up to the sky. Thick grey clouds had hung in the sky for days, but the snow still stubbornly refused to fall. You frowned up at them and sullenly dropped your gaze straight ahead. If you left this city without seeing any snowfall at all it would ruin your holidays, effectively rendering the point of coming here pointless.

Focusing your eyes on the stoop of your flat you froze. There, standing in front of your door was the object of your affections. A thin wisp of smoke rose from the end of Hanzo’s cigarette, the lit end illuminating his face when he inhaled. In the dim light of the streetlamps you could just barely see that he looked…different. He had an undercut now, his hair pulled up into a bun and if you weren’t mistaken he was sporting some piercings. Wait, piercings? Traditional Hanzo had piercings? You stood there gawking at him, your surprise at his appearance momentarily making you forget the two of you had been brooding over each other for months.

Closing your mouth you walked up to him, your face a careful mask of indifference. You weren’t angry at him, far from it, but until he decided what was or wasn’t going to happen between the two of you, you were determined to keep your own emotions under wraps. If there was to be something between you he couldn’t be pressured into it. It had to be his choice, you had made yours months ago. In profile he was breathtaking, the slight furrow of his brow made the metal on the bridge of his nose glint in the low lamplight. His athletic form hidden by a brown coat and what appeared to be almost military issue slacks. Tactical combat boots that laced up to just below his knee replaced his normal shoes and his quiver and Storm Bow were both slung across his back. He looked good. He looked really good. And not just physically, because he was a thing of beauty, but he also looked more at peace, more relaxed than you ever remembered seeing him.

You approached him carefully, when you were a few feet away he turned at the sound of your footfall. Seeing him looking at you and looking like that almost made you falter, but you steeled yourself and inclined your head in greeting. “Hanzo,” you said plainly, your eyes trying to find a safe place to land. His eyes were out of the question, if you looked into them you would melt and practically beg him to make up his mind. You could keep your eyes low, but that would make you seem even more closed off than your crossed arms did. So you settled for studying his bridge piercing, promising yourself you were only doing it to avoid looking him in the eye. Yes, that was it, it was because you were a coward, not because his new rugged-hipster look had your temperature rising. And the way he exhaled the smoke and crushed his cigarette underneath his heel totally did absolutely nothing for you. And the…wait he just said something to you, and you completely missed it because you were busy drooling over his new appearance.

You winced at your own lack of attentiveness and relaxed minimally. “Sorry, what did you say?” you asked as contrite as possible, smiling wryly at him.

He pursed his lips for a moment, furrowing his brow, “I said I am sorry for just showing up like this, but I needed to speak with you,” he paused, eyeing you almost guiltily. When it was clear he wasn’t going to continue or elaborate of his own will you prompted him gently.

Forcing your shoulders to relax and inhaling deeply you tried for a cheerful tone. “Alright. What did you want to talk about?” the smile you gave him felt stilted even to you, but it was all you could muster. He had shown up right when you were sulking over him. Missing him, more like. He showed up on your doorstep just a few days before Christmas with a new look and apparently a bone to pick with you. It wasn’t fair. You loved him so much that he could ask just about anything of you right now and you would give it to him giftwrapped.

Hanzo opened his mouth as if to say something but promptly snapped it shut instead. He looked off to the side and clenched and unclenched his hands, as if he was preparing for a fight. Is that what he came here for? A fight? All those days and weeks and months of literal will-they-won’t-they and he came all this way just to tell you it had been a mistake? More than a little discouraged you looked away from him so he couldn’t see the hope flickering out of your eyes. You couldn’t force him to feel things he didn’t and it would be no one’s fault but your own if your heart got broken over it.

He still hadn’t spoken and the silence was swiftly becoming awkward, neither of you meeting the other’s eyes. You gathered all of the resolve you had left and gestured to your door, “Well there’s no use standing out in the cold all night. Why don’t we go inside and we can talk, yeah?” you chirped, almost too brightly. Turning away from him and stepping towards the door you cringed inwardly at the hollow sound of your false cheer.

Before you had even taken one full step Hanzo’s hand shot out and grasped your wrist, not tightly, but with urgency almost like if he didn’t say the words now he’d never be able to get them out. You looked back at him in confusion, the question that was his name dying on your lips as you saw the look in his eyes. Determination, like how he was on the battlefield, except there was a softness to him now that he’d rarely shown before, almost pleading. It was then that you noticed how quickly his chest rose and fell, how his lips parted slightly before he spoke. “I needed to see you.” He whispered, as if he was afraid to speak any louder, afraid speaking the words out loud would make them real.

You gasped softly at the intensity in his eyes, your heart tripping over itself for a beat. Turning to face him fully, you started “Hanzo-“

But he cut you off, boldly taking a step closer to you. You were less than a foot away from each other now and when he spoke his grip on your wrist tightened for half a second. “Let me speak. I am not good with emotions, especially my own. I never have been.” He searched your eyes for any signs of reluctance to have this conversation and found only your wide-eyed gaze. The pause then was so heavy it felt like the atmosphere itself was shifting, like the moment when lightning flashes and you anticipate the clap of thunder to follow. You couldn’t look away from him even if you wanted to, his eyes captivated you, drowned you in their depths, making your lungs ache to draw in air.

He took another step, carefully this time, wary of your reaction. Still you stood rooted to your spot, sure that your emotions were plain as day on your face. You had read him so wrong when you first saw him here; he didn’t come to find you just to tell you you meant nothing to him. He couldn’t have. No one would track someone down when they knew they would see them again soon just to reject them. Right? He glanced down at his hand still wrapped about your wrist and moved it up your arm, deliberately slow, to rest at your cheek. The touch was so gentle that it almost startled you. It was in stark contrast to the way he had taken control all those months ago, grabbing you and pressing you against the wall, his mouth covering yours and—Stop. You were losing your focus again.

He looked worried. No, pained was more accurate. “I am sorry that my foolishness has caused you pain. You must know I never meant to hurt you.” The rasp of his voice felt like a dagger in your heart. That night, he had been even more confused than you, giving in to his desire to be close to you, to have you if only for a moment. But that desire clashed violently with his notion that he deserved none of it, that he was a monster incapable of loving or being loved. He ran from you, but only because he was running from himself as well. Yes, it had hurt, but you knew he hadn’t done it specifically to hurt you, he hadn’t even planned on doing it, it just happened. You also knew that after everything he had been through and everything he had done love would not come easily to him. He had to come to a conclusion on his own.

You swallowed around the lump in your throat, your tongue suddenly feeling like sandpaper. “I never held it against you. I knew you had some things to work out.” Your voice was so quiet, so meek it might have been lost to the wind if he hadn’t been standing right in front of you. His brown eyes softened with something like guilt. You looked away from him. It would take more than a few words to alleviate his self-imposed blame, but you had to try. “We both did.” You murmured just loud enough for him to hear.

When you chanced looking at him you saw him furrow his brow, his throat working with the effort of trying to speak. “I want…” he trailed off, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips. The sight was mesmerizing and did nothing to aid you in trying to ignore just how much you wanted him. What did he want? You didn’t know, not for certain. You looked directly at him now, silently willing him to speak. He cleared his throat, the vaguest hint of pink dusting his cheeks. “I want to—No, that is not right.” He muttered under his breath, his brow scrunched as if it was causing him physical pain to translate his feelings into words.

You reached up and placed your hand over his, offering comfort, grounding him to the here and now. “Hanzo, it’s ok. If you’re not ready-“

“But I am.” He refuted urgently, closing what little space remained between you and bringing his other hand up to cradle your face between his palms. “That is my point. I am ready. I wasn’t before, but still I—“ he cut himself off again, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. When he opened them again he looked calmer. “I should not have run from you. I should have stayed. I should have told you how I felt.” His eyes flicked back and forth between yours, imploring you to understand.

You felt your heart stutter in your chest. “How…how do you feel?” your voice was barely a whisper. You hoped you knew where this was going but still there was a traitorous voice inside your head telling you that this was all a joke. That he was purposely building your expectations only to crush them utterly and without mercy. For good or ill what he said next would change you forever.

His breath came out in small white puffs in the cold night air. “I love you.” He exhaled as if those words had been trapped inside of him for so long, preventing him from breathing deeply. His eyes were warm and so open. Hanzo was an expert at keeping people at arm’s length, never letting anyone close enough to see into his heart. But now you could see his hope, his fear, his desperation. He was allowing you to see passed his walls, something he would not have done six months ago, something he could not have done six months ago.

You knew it was cliché to think, but it truly felt like time slowed down. You couldn’t hear the sounds of cars passing or voices shouting in the distance, all you could hear was the pounding of your own heart. All you could see was raw emotion on his face. Your lips parted and even though you wanted more than anything to return the sentiment you couldn’t force your tongue to speak. He was so close now that you could feel his warm breath on your lips. Was he moving closer or were you? You couldn’t tell and it didn’t matter. All that mattered was this. This feeling of falling knowing that you would be caught and held before you hit the ground. There was a feeling of certainty that there hadn’t been before. This was it, this was—

Just before your lips touched something cold and wet touched the tip of your nose. You pulled back in surprise, Hanzo’s hands falling from your face, in time to see small white flakes start to fall faster from the sky. A low chuckle reached your ears and you looked back at him with wide eyes. He was covering his mouth with his fist, laughing softly. Seriously? You thought. It had to start snowing just then? You turned your focus back up to the clouds above you, glaring fiercely. The snow fell in thicker clumps, one falling right next to your eye making you recoil and close it. Hanzo stepped forward again, his laughter clear in his voice, “Here, allow me.” Raising his hands to your face once more he cradled your cheek and carefully brushed the snow from your face.

There was a small smile on his face as he aided you, and you pouted sullenly as you studied him. He really did look different. Peace was a good look on him, you decided. You lifted your hand and brushed the single lock of hair out of his face, letting your fingertips trail down his cheek. “You look good.” Was it the cold turning his cheeks pink or was he blushing? He cocked an eyebrow, his eyes dancing with mirth. Your own eyes widened at your wording and you rushed to elaborate. “I mean, not just the new look you have going for you, because that’s—wow! But you know also like you’re finally letting go.” As you spoke you waved your hands in front of you in an effort to ward off your growing blush.

He laughed and caught your flailing hands in his own. Raising them to his lips he pressed a gentle kiss to your palms. “Your fingers are freezing. You should go inside.” He murmured, running his thumbs over the backs of said fingers. Your fingers might have indeed been freezing but the heat his touch gave off made letting them freeze so much more tempting. You looked down at your hands in his. He had said you should go inside, not we, and yet you didn’t want this to end. You just got him back. You just got him, period; you couldn’t let him go now. Taking one step closer to him you dropped one hand to his chest and entwined your fingers with his. He slipped his free arm around your waist and pulled you closer.

Peeking up at him through your lashes you whispered, “Come with me.” You lifted your face to his, making your desires clear. He studied you for a moment, making sure that this was what you wanted and not what you thought he wanted. Flashing him a gentle smile you squeezed his hand reassuringly.

Seeing you so calm seemed to convince him that this was a decision you were making on your own, that you were fully committed. A ghost of a smile played about his lips and he dropped his arm from around you and waved towards the door. “As you wish.” He said, dipping his head in acquiescence.

The walk up to your flat was silent, which should have been uncomfortable, but strangely it wasn’t. The two of you had spent most of your time together recently speaking as little as possible. Then, you had too much to say to each other and no way to communicate it accurately. Now, the most important things had been said. There were still conversations that needed to be dealt with, elaborations and explanations to make, but there was no more confusion and no more fear. It was almost as if a wave of calm had washed over you both, blanketing the atmosphere in a sense of safety and comfortability.

However, once you got inside things were a bit different. The cold winter air must have slowed your thought process, because now that you were inside, in an enclosed space with the man who had just confessed his love to you your mind was infuriatingly, confoundedly blank. Actually, that wasn’t quite accurate. Your mind was working, whirring a mile a minute like it was over compensating for not having had a melt-down when Hanzo said those three magic words. You couldn’t even really make sense of your own thoughts, but one thing stood out above all the clamor: nerves.

You loved him, you knew you loved him and you weren’t afraid of being with him. A mixture of anticipation and excitement thrummed in your chest with every beat of your heart as you unlocked your door and stepped through. You gestured for him to come in and watched as he looked around. The flat was actually a studio of sorts, with high ceilings and several large windows on the far side of the main room. A half kitchen was to the right of the door and farther beyond that was the door to the single bedroom the place held. To the left was a large fireplace that you had kept almost continuously lit to ward off the chill of the spacious area. It was small, but that was alright, your stay here was only temporary after all. It looked like the sort of residence a struggling artist would have. That was just perfect for you; you were more interested in the aesthetic of it anyway.

That isn’t to say you didn’t do a few things to make the place your own while you stayed here, though. Since it was the holidays you had put up a tree that was just a bit taller than Hanzo and decorated it with some cheap but festive tinsel you had found at a nearby party store. On top of that you had woven tinsel around every pillar in the main room and even some in the rafters after getting a little too tipsy while decorating and listening to holiday music. The mantel of the fireplace was decorated with loops of garland hanging from it. For you, decorating was a tradition meant to bring those close to you together, but you had never given it up even after living on your own. It comforted you, made you feel less alone even though you were the only one there to see the finished product.

You watched in amusement as the first things Hanzo removed were his boots, even before pulling the bow off of his back. He set them neatly beside the door and looked up at you. Flushing at being caught staring like a love-struck teenager you hurriedly pulled the scarf from around your neck and hung it on the back of the door. Without turning around you unbuttoned your coat and hung it just above the scarf. From behind you you heard the sound of arrow shafts clacking together as they were moved about. Shifting from foot to foot you toed off your own boots placing them just to the left of the door. Now you turned to face him in time to see him set his quiver down, propped against the wall, his bow following shortly after. He pulled down the zipper on his coat and you took it with a quiet “Thank you” from him. With his coat hanging beside yours it was all very domestic. He was here, with you, getting relaxed enough to be without his primary weapon with his boots sitting by the door.

It occurred to you that this could be your life all the time. All you needed to do was confess your love to a man who had done that very same thing less than 10 minutes ago. It should be easy, just turn around and tell him how you feel. Taking a deep breath you turned to face him and opened your mouth. Suddenly the words weighed your tongue down like lead. Not because you were afraid, but because in front of you stood the epitome of human beauty and sex appeal. It had only been a week, two at the most, since you had seen him last but seeing him in his traditional clothing before and seeing him now in more modern clothing was surreal. Under his coat he was wearing a plain black shirt that was almost sinfully tight, with short sleeves showing off his tattoo. How was it even possible for him to be somehow more attractive now with more of his body covered than when he had half of his chest exposed before?

Unfortunately your staring did not go unnoticed. After roving his entire body with your eyes you looked back up to his face. He quirked an eyebrow, a smile threatening to peek through his stoic demeanor. You set your features in a mask of seriousness and cleared your throat. “Please, make yourself at home. Would you like something to drink?” you asked, hoping the crack in your voice was barely audible. In an effort to humor you he nodded gravely and uttered a very polite “please.”

Giving yourself the job of playing host granted you breathing room. It allowed you to focus on the task at hand and not on the incredibly sexy archer meandering around your flat. Absentmindedly you wondered if he would judge you for how haphazardly you had decorated, or how the place itself was kind of a dump. It wasn’t really that bad of a place, it had its charms, but it was certainly no five star hotel. That worry flew straight out of your head as soon as you opened your fridge though. Since you had come here you had done little to no shopping, usually eating out when you got hungry. The only things in the fridge were a bit of leftovers, some milk, and alcohol. Shutting the almost depressingly empty refrigerator you searched your cabinets instead. You could swear you had some juice somewhere. Wait, no you drank that two days ago when you mixed it with rum, got completely wasted and listened to summer jams…in the dead of winter. Now that you thought about it, you should probably cut back on the drinking.

And on that note you remembered you had a half-open box of hot chocolate mix. Smiling to yourself you stood on the tips of your toes to grab it. A little sheepishly you called out to Hanzo, “Hey, so I have water, hot chocolate and…Baileys.” He turned from his place of inspecting your Christmas tree and gave you a look that was probably meant to be disapproving but the glint in his eye made it look more like amused. “It’s good in the hot chocolate. You should try it.” You explained with an exaggerated shrug.

“I believe I’ll just have hot chocolate, thank you.” He said after a beat of pretending to think it over. You rolled your eyes at him and set to work making two cups of something to warm the two of you up. You had to admit you were surprised at his change, wondering what could have triggered it. Did it happen in a split second or was what you were seeing the culmination of months of work? You weren’t naïve enough to think you were all that changed him, but you also weren’t humble enough to think you had nothing to do with it. Love didn’t fix everything, it wasn’t a cure-all that instantly wiped away years of regret, self-loathing and anger. You knew you couldn’t love away all of his guilt and shame and depression. But at the same time, love was a powerful force, it was a part of all happiness and once you opened yourself up to the possibility of giving and receiving love there was little that could hold you down forever. It was like cleansing a wound before bandaging it, allowing it the time it needed to heal.

While you thought your hands went through the near-automatic motions of preparing the hot chocolate. When they were ready you gripped the handles, careful not to burn your knuckles, and walked over to him, keeping an eye on the sloshing liquid, lest it spill on the already questionably stained cement floors. “Here, careful it’s…” your voice trailed off as you lifted your head. The light of the moon, peeking through the thick clouds, streaked across his features, bathing him in a silver glow. He looked ethereal, shadows playing over him, accentuating the sharp angles of his face. “Hot,” you finally managed to finish your sentence, absently holding out the mug to him. He turned and took it from your hands with a nod of thanks. With his body turned to face you his left side was closest to the window now. You watched in fascination as the moonlight seemed to illuminate his tattoo, the scales of the dragon shimmering and shifting as they did just before it came to life. You weren’t even exaggerating all that much, normal tattoos didn’t do that.

Hanzo took in your perplexed expression and scrunched brow, he followed your line of sight to his arm and lifted it slightly to expose it to more light. “Don’t ask me how it works. Even I don’t really know. All I know is that the tattoo and the dragons are connected, and they are both alive, in a certain respect.” He muttered, flexing his arm and watching you in amusement as a soft gasp passed your lips. The dragon seemed to move, coiling around his arm rather more like a beloved pet than a spirit protector. Transfixed, you raised your own hand, fingers ghosting along the scales. If you had been paying closer attention you would have noticed the fine tremor that ran through his body when your skin made contact with his. You knew tattoos didn’t feel any different than unmarked skin, but something was compelling you to touch it. You felt some sort of power humming just beneath his inked skin, awakening at your touch, and you could swear you heard a distant roar, the same sound the dragons made when they faded back into his tattoo.

At first you thought you had imagined it, so you looked up at Hanzo, only to see his brown eyes dark with want. Oh. If that one look hadn’t captivated you so you might have made a joke about him getting excited over you stroking his dragon. As it was, however, you only stared at him, feeling your heart pound in your chest. He watched you like a hawk, noting the way your lips parted slightly and your chest rose and fell just a little faster. After nearly a year of one-sided pining you were unused to him scrutinizing you with such unabashed desire. “As I said,” he murmured, leaning down to place his mug on the small coffee table to his right. “The tattoo and the dragons are connected.” Your breath was coming faster and faster as he gently took your mug from you with no resistance. Setting it beside his own he stood straight again, his hand finding your upper thigh and skimming up to your waist.

“And the dragons are connected to me. They are an extension of my soul.” His voice was low and sonorous, sending a warm shiver down your spine. He used that shiver as a cue to continue, sliding his left arm around you, pressing gently at the small of your back. A puff of breath escaped you as he pulled you close, your chest pressed to his. You were sure there was no way he couldn’t feel your racing heart. “They respond to your touch because I do.” He finished, his fingers trailing lightly up your arm to rest at your neck.

With his thumb he tilted your chin up just so. “Hanzo.” You whispered, because it felt like that was all you could say. Your mind was buzzing with too many thoughts, your heart bursting with too many emotions, all of them revolving around him. Your half-lidded gaze was met by his heated one. His thumb grazed your lower lip, and you gave a shaky exhale. Brown eyes flickered from yours down to your mouth and back. There was no surprise weather to stop you now, there was nothing standing between you and the one you loved more than any other.

And suddenly it was like the dam broke. Everything you felt for him and had bottled up came rushing out of you with such force that it surprised even you. Your hands, which up until this point had hung limply at your sides, gripped the front of his shirt as if they had a mind of their own, pulling him closer and closing the gap between you. It wasn’t your first kiss. It wasn’t even your first kiss with Hanzo, but it might as well have been. That kiss had you thinking about him nonstop, you even dreamt about it, the way he kissed you like you were the first thing he wanted and allowed himself to have. He had kissed you with a hint of madness and desperation, like he thought it might be the last thing he ever did.

This kiss was similar in that both were of all-consuming passion. But whereas the first had been desperation this kiss tasted of acceptance, of hope and promise. You could only realize it now that you knew what it felt like to kiss a truly free Hanzo, but the first had been an ending, this was a beginning. In an instant the hand that had been at your neck cupped the back of your head, his fingers buried in your hair. His other arm wrapped securely around your waist, he walked you backwards until your back hit the wall behind you. The contact with the cold stone made you gasp. Hanzo slipped his tongue passed your parted lips and you moaned as if his kiss was the most decadent thing you had ever tasted. This was what had been missing from that first kiss, this sense of rightness, of belonging.

Releasing his shirt you slid your hands up his chest and looped them around his neck. His mouth was warm and tasted faintly of chocolate. When he pulled back for air you nipped at his lower lip, trying to pull him back in. He huffed and pressed his forehead to yours, depriving you of his kiss. “I love you.” He whispered breathlessly. The lustful haze on your mind lessened and you gazed back at him endearingly. Placing a soft peck on your lips he continued to speak, “I need you to know that.” His lips traveled the curve of your jaw to just below your ear. “And I need you to know that I want you.” He murmured, his teeth closing over your earlobe and biting down hard enough to send a thrill of pleasure through you.

You drew in a sharp breath, your body instinctively arching into his. He slowly kissed down your neck, seemingly content to take his time. But with the two of you pressed so close it was impossible to ignore the evidence of his arousal. You whined impatiently and ground your hips against his. His response was a surprised grunt that filled you with pride. It was you he wanted. He had said as much. You were the one making his body react this way. You smiled to yourself and bit your bottom lip. Tilting your head to allow him better access you shuddered as his teeth scraped lightly over your pulse point. Your fingers scratched at his back in retaliation. “As much as I am…mmm…enjoying this: there is a perfectly good bed here.” You whispered, barely recognizing your own voice for how tinged with lust it was. Feeling blindly to your left you managed to grab a hold of the door handle to the bedroom. Hanzo hummed, his hands moving to grip your waist.

With little to no effort he lifted you up. Yelping, you quickly locked your legs around his hips and tightened your grip on his neck. He chuckled, the sound mixed with the vibrations in his chest made heat pool in your gut. “You wanted to move this to the bedroom, did you not?” he whispered in your ear. You could feel the smirk on his face. The Hanzo of last year would not give his smile away so easily and you were certain he would not have teased so lightheartedly either. The thought made a grin break out on your face, your heart swelling with joy.

As he carried you to the bed you rained kisses down on him, giggling at his perplexed expression. You kissed anywhere your lips could immediately reach. When he stopped moving you slid down from his hold and dropped your feet nimbly to the ground. You smiled brightly at him, brushing your fingers across his cheek. “I’m happy for you.” Your heart was so full of love for him that you couldn’t have kept your feelings to yourself even if you wanted to. His head tilted adorably in confusion, a little crease forming between his brows. The sight only made your heart soften further, “And I’m proud of you.” You stood on the balls of your feet to kiss his forehead.

When you pulled back he was staring at you, eyes wide with wonder. You scrunched your brow. Why was he looking at you like that? Then it hit you, and you felt your heart fall through your stomach. He wasn’t used to hearing those words. Especially not after what he did to Genji. For a moment you had a horrible thought that maybe he had heard them after Genji’s “death”, maybe the elders of his clan had told him they were proud of him for upholding the family’s honor. You shook off the dark thought violently and instead cupped his face in your hands. “You’re finally starting to let go,” you brushed your thumb over his cheekbones and smiled at the emotion on his face that the old Hanzo normally would have hidden. “I’ve never seen you look so free,” his hands were warm on your hips while you traced the lines of his face with your eyes. You wondered how it was possible that there were things about him you were just noticing. Like the crinkles by his eyes when he smiled or the way his eyes sparkled when he was truly happy. You reasoned it was because he had never let anyone see those things and you felt an indescribable happiness that he was showing you now. “Or so beautiful.” You finished in a dazed murmur, your hands slowly falling from his face to rest on his chest, your right hand just over his heart.

Hanzo’s eyes were a maelstrom of emotion, he opened his mouth to speak but shut it instead, deciding that actions speak louder than words. He surged forward and captured your lips in a searing kiss. His hands gripped the hem of your shirt and tugged it upwards, a silent question. One you were all too happy to answer. Lifting your arms above your head you allowed him to start to disrobe you. His lips only left yours just as long as was required to divest you of your clothing. You returned the favor fervently, stripping him of his own shirt. He kissed down your neck to your shoulder where he bit firmly. The sting of pleasure distracted you from his deft fingers unhooking your bra and tossing it aside. He dulled the ache in your shoulder with his lips and tongue, an unnecessary apology, but one you accepted gladly.

Your hands moved to his pants, fumbling slightly as his own hands caressed your curves, his thumbs brushing lightly over your nipples. The sensation had you biting back a gasp. No one’s touch had ever felt as good as his, raising goosebumps across your skin as he reached for the button of your jeans. He pushed them down off your hips and you wiggled trying to get them off without your hands and without bending over, earning a snort of laughter from him. You glared at him, but there was no heat in it. Eventually you huffed in irritation and pouted as you dropped your hands to your sides. “My thighs are too big.” You muttered sullenly, shoving your jeans to the floor with just a little more force than was necessary.

You weren’t truly upset, just a little embarrassed. Hanzo, however, did not take kindly to you thinking poorly of yourself. Tilting your chin up so that your eyes were level with his he said, “There is no such thing. Your thighs are beautiful. As is every part of you.” He kissed your forehead and then your lips softly, sweetly. Then a devilish smirk touched his lips. “In fact…”he added, leaning into you to lay you on the bed. You went willingly, curious as to what made him change his demeanor so quickly. When your back hit the bed he leaned over you, one hand supporting his weight and the other slipping under your thigh, bending your leg so your foot was flat on the bed. “I’d love to have your thighs wrapped around my head.” He whispered huskily, backing you up so that your head rested on your pillow.

Your eyes widened almost comically large and he laughed before placing his lips at the hollow of your throat. Opening and closing your mouth like a fish out of water you tried to think of something to say. Nothing had prepared you for how seductive and teasing he would be. Finding words hard to formulate you settled for a closed-lipped moan as he kissed down your chest, his hands following what his lips did there. When he reached your stomach he looked up at you to see your chest heaving and your eyes blown wide with lust. If he was looking for permission to continue you thought he hardly needed to. There was no way you were going to stop him now.

You reached down and hooked your thumbs under the waistband of your panties and pushed them off your hips. You arched a playfully challenging eyebrow at him and he grinned, aiding you in discarding your last piece of clothing. Now you lay completely bare beneath him and somehow you had never felt more beautiful. It wasn’t because you relied on someone else’s vision of you to tell you you were beautiful, but because he was seeing you for all you were both physically and emotionally. He saw all of you and still looked at you with so much love and joy. You felt there was some hidden power in wanting and being wanted in return.

Hanzo tossed your underwear over his shoulder, making a laugh bubble out of you. He smiled and leaned back over you to claim your lips once more. Lifting your hand you caressed his face gently before allowing him to continue the journey south that his lips had started. When he nipped at your hips you gasped and raised them in surprise. His kisses were warm, leaving blossoms of heat wherever they went. He lifted your thighs and placed them over his shoulders, his torso flat against the bed. Teasing you with slow, open-mouthed kisses on your thighs he gripped your hips. You whined in frustration, he was so close to where you wanted him and he seemed to be taking his time getting there. You tried to shift your hips, to get him to take the hint, but his grip was firm, allowing little room for movement. You huffed disagreeably and both felt and saw him smirk against the flesh he was leisurely perusing.

Dropping your head back to the pillows you resigned yourself to this sweet torture. For now you would let him have his way. Just as that thought crossed your mind, however, Hanzo decided to lick a long stripe up your wet folds. You inhaled sharply, your body tensing in surprise. But now that he had started he seemed loathe to continue to take things slow. You let your legs fall farther apart as his tongue teased your clit. You thought you ought to be writhing in pleasure, begging for more, swearing, but the way he teased you was intentionally slow, as if he was coaxing the pleasure out of you. Settling for arching your back each time he closed his lips over your clit you lowered your hand and placed it on top of his on your hip.

Knowing you likely needed something to ground you he lifted his hand and entwined his fingers with yours. He alternated between firm pressure and light, barely there touches. You shut your eyes against the building heat within you, your head lolling to the side. Hanzo placed his free hand just above your sex, spreading your folds with his fingers. The short reprieve from the heat of his mouth allowed the chilly night air to hit your overheated core. Shivering and moaning you hardly noticed you had started to rock your hips to the rhythm of his lapping tongue. You gripped the sheets tight in one hand, the nails of your other forming crescent marks on the back of his hand. Suddenly he lowered his mouth and thrust his tongue inside you. You made an undignified grunting sound that had him chuckling and—ooh that was a nice feeling. The vibrations traveled all the way from deep in his chest through where your bodies connected. Carefully you rocked your hips down onto the soft muscle and he playfully wiggled it, earning a pleased gasp from you.

His tongue retreated and he trailed his fingertips down your sex, grazing tantalizingly over your clit. You held your breath as he circled your entrance once, twice, before easing his index finger inside of you. The feeling of finally having something inside you on top of the clitoral stimulation that his tongue has returned to is so satisfying that you clench around the intrusion just to feel more. “So impatient.” He murmurs the words into the skin of your thigh, placing a wet kiss there before bending his head and sucking your clit back into his mouth. You groan, wanting to tell him you’re only being impatient because he’s purposefully trying to drive you mad, but the words get stuck in your throat when he adds a second finger.

You can feel him smiling smugly and your cheeks burn at the way he seems to know exactly what your body craves. Your ire is short-lived, however, as he redoubles his efforts, perhaps in half-hearted apology for the teasing. He seems to be actively trying to make you come, his fingers crooking inside of you and rubbing at your walls in a come-hither motion. The sound of his fingers plunging into you over and over only served to arouse you further. Able to take it no longer you let go of his hand and began to pinch and pull your nipples for some relief. You were only vaguely aware that you were speaking; pleas for more, telling him you were close, and his name, always his name dripping from your lips like the sweetest honey. You could feel his hot breath puffing against your skin and heard him groan quietly. When you looked down at him you saw his brow furrowed in concentration, but his recently freed hand was not so easily visible.

It took your pleasure-clouded mind a few slow seconds to realize what he was doing. Hanzo was palming himself through his pants while going down on you. You were so close you nearly came at the realization, biting your lip and slamming your hands onto the bedsheets, gripping for dear life. Then he looked up at you. And you let go. It felt like that split second right after you fall from the highest point of a roller coaster, when your stomach muscles clench and your heart kicks into overdrive. He watched you fall, slowing his pace to prolong your pleasure. You drew in desperate gulps of air, your head falling back to the pillows as you tried to make the world come back into focus.

At length he pulled away, when your hips stopped bucking, frantically chasing your high, and kissed your stomach softly then your sternum and finally your lips. You returned his kiss dazedly, humming in satisfaction at the taste of you still lingering on his lips. Pushing him back not unkindly you propped yourself up on your elbows. “Off with the pants, cowboy, let’s go.” You said as if you were under a time crunch, snapping your fingers for effect.

Hanzo sat up and gave you a befuddled look, “I am not McCree. I am not a cowboy.” He said it with such a serious face that you couldn’t help but laugh.

Dragging your hand down your face to stifle your giggles you shook your head at him. “It’s just a figure of speech, lover.” You laughed, running your hand down his bare chest soothingly. You looked up at him, a smirk playing on your lips. “And I’d really rather you didn’t talk about Jesse while I’m trying to have sex with you.” You feigned exasperation, throwing your arm over your eyes.

Hanzo snorted in amusement and you peeked at him from under your arm. His grin was almost feral in the moonlight as he stared you down, his hands making quick work of his belt and pants. Leaning over you to kick them off you lowered your arm to study him. There was a boyish sort of cockiness about him, a mirth that lived in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

He raised a questioning eyebrow at you and you raised yours in the same respect. “You wanted my pants off, did you not?” he echoed his phrasing from earlier, his lips quirking upwards. You looked down only to have your jaw drop. Hanzo was hovering above you as naked as the day he was born. Hanzo Shimada…did not wear underwear. While ogling him was certainly an option, the whole thing was so unexpected that you threw your head back and laughed. Though realizing he might take this the wrong way you immediately slapped a hand over your mouth.

Your worry was for naught. Though he did not laugh his eyes were dancing with laughter. Relieved that he wasn’t upset you let out a snort of laughter, this time covering your mouth at the unsightly noise. While your cheeks burned he merely brushed his fingertips over one of them. “I’m happy. Here. With you.” He murmured reverently as if he was just now realizing he was allowed to feel that way.

“So am I.” You smiled up at him and cupped his cheeks, pulling him in for a kiss. The longer you kissed the more the heat began to rise within you once more. Lowering your hands to his hips you pulled him closer, feeling his arousal against your thigh. You broke the kiss with a soft groan, “Hanzo,” you said his name lovingly, almost like a plea. “I want you inside me.” You whispered against his lips, nudging his nose with yours.

He kissed you again, parting your willing lips and twining his tongue with yours. In the midst of the kiss he snaked his hand down between your bodies and took himself in hand. He teased your clit with the head of his cock and shifted his lower body, positioning himself at your entrance. He looked up at you and you nodded at him, trailing your fingertips down his cheek, a mirror of what he had done. Though he had prepared you well, he pushed slowly into you, hissing in pleasure. For a moment nothing happened, the two of you acclimating to the feel of each other. He reveled in your heat, pressing his forehead to yours, and you clenched around him in relief of feeling so full.

You slid your hands up his chest and around his neck, bringing his lips to yours. You held him close and he did the same, kissing your lips over and over again as if he could drink the sweetness from them. Then he pulled his hips back slowly, until just the tip of his cock remained inside you and thrust forward, bringing you flush together again. You both let out simultaneous groans, both knowing there was no holding back. Hanzo set a steady rhythm that you tried desperately to match.

Objectively you knew that sex wasn’t always a magical experience, in fact more often than not it was messy and left at least one of your limbs sore from a prolonged position. But occasionally there were moments like this one in which you let go of everything but the one who made you feel like nothing else mattered. You lost yourself in the pleasure of loving and being loved in return. Focusing on the way his skin felt against yours you watched as a rivulet of sweat slid down his chest, between his abs and dripped down onto you. His voice, thick with desire, calling your name pulled you back to him.

His thrusts were slow and deep, his cock dragging against your inner walls, pulling pleasure from you as easily as if you had been lovers for years. You whined and pulled him closer, burying your face in his neck. He smelled of sweat and sex and something distinctly him. Compelled to taste him you flicked your tongue out to lick a bead of sweat from his neck. Hanzo growled and slid his hand behind your head, tangling his fingers in your sweat-damp hair. His mouth covered yours in a sloppy imitation of a kiss, it was really more like breathing into each other’s mouths and somehow that made it even more erotic.

When he was inside of you his brow furrowed and he seemed to not be able to take his hands off of you, afraid that if he let you go you would disappear. His breathing was fast, too fast for just being from exertion. You knew without asking that it had been a long time since he had let anyone in like this. There was a vulnerability in sex that you just couldn’t imagine him allowing anyone to see, at least not as he had been when you met. You lifted his chin gently, “Hanzo look at me. Open your eyes, look at me.” You whispered urgently. His eyes fluttered open, his brow still scrunched, almost as if he was afraid. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” On the surface there was no need for you to say that, but for someone who has so much trouble letting people in you knew he needed reassurance that you wouldn’t hurt him, shut him out after you were done. You understood all too well what that felt like.

After a moment, though his breathing was still heavy he wasn’t close to hyperventilating like he had been before. His eyes cleared and he burrowed his arms underneath you to lift you up as he sat up. Gasping at the change in angle you hugged his hips with your knees, your head falling back. He was doing most of the work, honestly, you were barely keeping pace with him now. His strong arms flexing as they supported your weight.

You brought your head back up just a bit too fast and knocked it against his. Both of you stopped moving instantly and he ducked his head in surprise. You smiled at him sheepishly, rubbing your forehead. He was silent for a long moment. So long you thought he might be angry. You were just about to apologize when he lifted his head and let out a full-bodied laugh. Not a chuckle, not a snort, a full-blown laugh. You had never heard a sound so beautiful, his voice rough with exertion and disuse. You watched him, in awe of how dazzling he was. His laughter died down as he meaningfully pressed his forehead to yours. Holding you with one arm he brushed your cheek with his thumb. “Let’s try that again, shall we? This time perhaps without the unintentional bodily harm.” He snickered.

You flushed and pouted, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—wait, unintentional?” you asked, no small amount of surprise in your voice. “Are you into that?” You weren’t upset, in fact that was something you were definitely willing to explore if he was, but you had expected Hanzo to be either an extraordinarily romantic lover or extremely kinky. You supposed it was your own fault for presuming in the first place, not everyone fell under strict categories. Hell, you didn’t, so it really shouldn’t come as a surprise to you that he was such a versatile lover.

He chuckled lightly, “I suppose you will have to find out exactly what I’m ‘into’. Preferably through repeated practice. Trial and error…” He trailed off, his gaze returning to you. A lecherous smile spread across his face and you smirked at him.

Shifting on his lap you pulled a gasp from his perfect lips. Leaning close to his ear you whispered, “Then we’d best get started.” A sharp nip to his pierced earlobe had a shiver rolling down his spine. Wrapping his arms back around you he gripped you tight, pulled back and thrust into your welcoming heat. You bit back a moan and this time kept your wits about you enough to bring your hips up and slam them back down onto his. It wasn’t long before you were right back where you started before you brained him.

With this new angle each thrust hit deliciously deep, stretching your walls and hitting that perfect spot inside you. You steadied yourself on his shoulders and brought your hips to meet his, your fingernails digging into his flesh. This time he didn’t take his eyes from you once, watching you with an intensity that had your skin feeling like fire. You deliberately slowed your pace. Pressed close, breathing him in you felt tension coiling in your gut. Hanzo ducked his head, pressing kisses to your shoulder down to your breasts. Everywhere he kissed he left crimson blooming on your skin, you knew come the morning you would have a multitude of purpling bruises littered across your body.

He shifted again, lying back and bringing you with him. You gripped his shoulders, not bothered by the change in position at all. From his vantage point below you he could watch the beads of sweat roll off your body like drops of rain. He watched your breasts bounce with each movement, watched your mouth drop open and your eyes close, watched your back arch and felt your nails drag down his chest, leaving angry red marks in their wake. You clenched your jaw, feeling your toes start to curl. With a surprising amount of effort you looked back down at him. The grip on your hips was tight and the muscles of his neck were taught. He was close, and so were you. Bracing your weight and your hand beside his head you reached down with your free hand and rubbed at your clit, swift firm circles over the sensitive bundle of nerves had you clenching down on him and coming with a shout.

The rhythm of your hips stuttered, grinding against him, riding out your pleasure. Though your muscles ached with exhaustion you raised your hips back up, riding him roughly. You bracketed his head with your arms, your hair a curtain around the two of you. Hanzo’s hand slid up your side and brushed your hair behind your ear, grasping the back of your neck. You went willingly as he brought your lips together, leaning on your forearms. He held you close like that and with the moonlight streaming through the frosted windows something clicked inside of you. “I love you.” You breathed. You couldn’t believe you hadn’t said that yet. He had said it twice already and both times something had kept you from responding. The first time it had been shock, the second had been his horribly distracting lips mapping the curve of your jaw.

Hanzo’s eyes widened and his grip on you tightened. He groaned loudly and bucked his hips up to yours and held them flush as he spilled inside of you. You cooed to him and stroked his cheek until his breathing was under control. You dropped your forehead to his and smiled. “I love you.” You hummed, a surge of happiness flowing through you.

He huffed a breathless laugh and kissed your nose and then your temple. “And I love you.” He whispered, his fingers gliding up and down your side comfortingly. You watched the moonlight play off the scales of his tattoo, the silver light lending a ghostly glow to the inked skin. You ran your fingers down the length of his left arm, tracing each curve of the dragon. He watched you in silence, seemingly content to feel your skin against his. The two of you basked in the afterglow for long peaceful moments. Until the sweat drying on your skin made you shiver. You sat up and carefully eased yourself off of him.

Hanzo rolled onto his side to watch as you headed for the only other door in the room besides the entrance. “I need a warm shower.” You muttered, rubbing your arms. When you got to the door you looked back at him over your shoulder. “You coming?” You watched as a grin broke out across his face and he slid off the bed to meet you. Post-coital Hanzo was very mellow, you observed with amusement. He sauntered over to you and you stepped into the bathroom fully expecting him to follow. Suddenly a thought occurred to you, “Hey Hanzo?” Hanzo hummed in acknowledgement, placing his hands on your hips while you started the water. “I noticed you got some piercings. What do you think about getting them…elsewhere?”

He snorted. “I think…” he murmured, placing a kiss just below your ear. “That we can discuss it…” another kiss, this time right over your pulse point, a place that made you gasp. “Later.” He finished, his hands starting to roam your body.

Before you got extremely distracted you pushed his hands from you and stepped into the steamy shower. “Ah ah, Mr.Shimada. Shower first.” You reprimanded him playfully, pulling him under the water with you. “Besides,” you grinned lewdly at him. “We have all night.”

The two of you had a lot to discuss, a lot to explain, and a lot to find out. But you had faith that everything would come in time. You didn’t have to have all the big conversation all at the same time. For now, you knew he loved you and he knew you loved him, and that was enough. Maybe you had some issues to work out about the rejection you felt from him all those months ago, but you could talk to him now. Openly and without fear or reservation. And maybe his shackles to the past weren’t completely broken, but that was okay. He would get there someday and you would be there to help him when he stumbled along the way. And, as he was starting to realize, so would the rest of his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For your entertainment, these are my notes in the document I have saved:  
> • Highkey they’re dirnking hot chocolate bc I hate coffee (edit: I could have had them drink tea I am a Fool)  
> • Also smoking is bad kids don’t do it  
> • Also also the timeline is fucked, don’t even try to understand it  
> • Also also also use condoms kids, I jus have a very specific kink  
> • This is ooc and I literally don’t care  
> • IF YOU CANT LAUGH DURING SEX UR NOT WITH THE RIGHT PERSON  
> • ALSO HANZO LIKES ‘EM THICC, #CONFIRMED  
> • Hipster Hanzo goes commando, sorry folks I don’t make the rules  
> • I cringe every time I have to write the word ‘panties’  
> • Me, apparently only know how to write one type of character: fcuk  
> • MAMA NEEDS A REDEMPTION ARC, DON’T MAKE ME WRITE ONE MYSELF, BLIZZ CAUSE ILL FUCKEN DO IT


	2. Spring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six months after your first night with Hanzo and finally his piercings have healed. Now you get to explore a different side to sexuality, both his and yours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always you can find my tumblr [here!](http://minakushi.tumblr.com/) Stop in to yell at me for not writing, ask questions or follow for updates on my writing process!

It happened one fateful spring day.

You and Hanzo were cooling down after training. The sun was setting just beyond the walls and windows of the training hall, painting everything in a gorgeous orange hue, and casting long shadows across the ground. You sat side by side with your backs against the cool metal wall of the training room. All around you recruits, both new and old, honed and tested their skills against the training bots. You watched them with a curious eye. Over the months of being stationed here you had gotten to know a lot of these people. You had worked with them, laughed with them, lived and fought with them. But you had never really had the opportunity to watch them fight. Sure, you had been in dangerous situations with some of them, but in a fight you don’t usually have the time or luxury to pay attention to what your comrades are doing. You just have to trust them. And you did. You had never had a mission go horrible wrong before so clearly they were good at what they did.

But that isn’t to say you weren’t curious as to what they could do. Besides that, Overwatch agents were constantly getting new equipment and learning new techniques. So even if you were to memorize everyone’s skillset by the time you did they would likely have learned all new moves and had their equipment upgraded at least once.

You watched Hana test out the new missiles in her Mech, you even watched Dr. Ziegler try out several different techniques to increase mobility and damage. Of course Hana complained that the missiles were at the cost of some of her Defense Matrix time and Dr. Ziegler was annoyed that in her improvement of her own defensive abilities that she could only revive one person from the brink of death at a time. It was all interesting, everyone had different specialties and you were proud to be counted among such talented and bright people. You smiled to yourself and took a sip of water from the bottle you had brought with you.

Hanzo sat beside you, breathing deeply with his eyes closed. His index and middle finger were pressed to his throat, counting his heart rate. You watched, enraptured, as a bead of sweat rolled down his temple and hung precariously from his chin.

Five months ago Hanzo had crashed your Holiday vacation. Well, crashed was too harsh a word for it, though you certainly hadn’t been expecting him. He had shown up quite literally on your doorstep sporting a new look and apparently a change of heart. At first you had been wary of his sudden change, but when very nearly the first thing he said had been to confess his love to you you took a leap of faith and let down your walls. You let him in both figuratively and literally, into your heart, into your apartment and into your bed.

And he had proven to be worthy of your unconditional trust. Nothing had changed drastically and yet everything had. He was still your best friend, still someone you trusted to have your back in a fight, and still scolding you for your bad eating and sleeping habits. But now he was also your lover, fighting to protect you because if he lost you he would be lost himself, and worrying that if you didn’t take good care of your mind and body something could happen to you.

Hanzo’s voice saying your name and his hand waving in front of your face snapped you out of your thoughts. You jerked as you were pulled back to the here and now and shook your head, “Huh? What? I’m sorry, I zoned out.” You smiled sheepishly at him, uncapping your bottle and taking another swig of cold water.

He looked at you with fond exasperation, “I was trying to tell you that I think all of my piercings are healed enough now. We could try what we’ve discussed. Tonight, if you wish.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

In an instant you choked on the water you had been drinking. Coughing and sputtering you put your head between your knees and tried desperately to draw in air. You felt Hanzo’s hand on your back, rubbing in soothing circles. When you managed to look up at him he was looking at you in concern but also clear confusion. You loved him to pieces, but the boy really had no tact whatsoever. Not only had his statement taken you by surprise but it was also referencing instances that were very different and yet connected. It took you a moment to fully grasp what he was saying and even then it made heat flare to your cheeks. You weren’t really embarrassed to be talking about this where anyone might hear. Only surprised that Hanzo would say it without provocation.

When you felt like your lungs could handle breathing normally you sat back up and studied him cautiously for a moment. True, it had been months since he had gotten his piercings, but you didn’t want to imply that you didn’t trust him by questioning him. You trust him and he knew his body and limits better than anyone else did, so there was no reason for you to protest. And if you were being honest, you missed him. He had gotten his piercings just after the two of you became lovers, so it had been quite some time since the two of you had had intercourse in the biblical sense.

Other than that, he was also asking you to let him dominate you. So you really didn’t want to protest. The thought alone sent a shiver of pleasure down your spine. Clearing your throat you looked him in the eye, “Alright. If you’re ready then so am I. Tonight, then.” You nodded at him. You hadn’t noticed until his features relaxed that he was nervous about your reaction. That brought a gentle smile to your face. Reaching out you brushed the stray lock of hair off his sweaty forehead. You wouldn’t second guess him. You wanted this and apparently so did he, so why make it needlessly difficult.

Together you had already made the proper preparations in anticipation of your less than vanilla sexual escapades. You had been perhaps a bit too excited about it, having gotten everything you needed long before you would be able to use any of it. But all of the waiting was about to come to an end. You had to fight for control over yourself, lest you start bouncing up and down like an overexcited child. Hanzo smiled warmly at you, returning the favor by brushing your bangs out of your eyes, “Tonight, then.” He echoed softly, his voice low with promise. Slipping his fingers down to your chin, he tilted it until he could press a chaste kiss to your lips.

Part of you wanted to start right now, to push him down to the ground and mount him like a prized stallion. But that would defeat the entire purpose. He was going to be dominating you, not the other way around. At least not yet. While the prospect of taking control of him and riding him like you had in the winter was exceedingly tempting you decided to behave. A rebellious thought wormed its way into your mind: just how would he punish you if you disobeyed him tonight? A thousand possibilities flashed before your eyes, each one more debauched than the last. Would he spank you? Would he wrap his hand around your throat? Would he bring you to the edge again and again until you were begging for release? You decided you wanted all of these things. But this was your first time trying something like this with Hanzo so as much as those thoughts excited you, you were determined to be a good girl. Besides, there would be plenty of opportunities to misbehave in the future. And then you would relish every single second of your punishment.

During your extensive talks about kinks you and Hanzo had already come up with a safe word and a sign, in case you were unable to speak. In the end you hadn’t been able to agree on a single one of the words either one of you proposed so you settled on the classic: colors. Red was for stop, yellow was for unsure or slow down, and green was for good. If you couldn’t speak the sign was to tap three times rhythmically, or as close to it as possible, with just your index and middle fingers. Ideally the sign was meant to be made by tapping on your partner’s collarbone, but in the event that your hands couldn’t reach that high the hip was your next best option. Even though you trusted each other completely, safe words and gestures were an absolute necessity.

When Hanzo parted from your lips he smiled, brushing his thumb along your lower lip. Ever since just before the end of last year he had been looking more at peace with himself and his surroundings. His relationship with Genji was on the mend too. Though that was slow going, as was to be expected. They talked, sometimes awkwardly, having to search their brains to find a safe topic to discuss. Sometimes hours passed without either of them noticing, too busy making up for lost time. Whatever they were doing when they spent time together, it was working. They could now be in the same room as each other without the air being thick with tension. You had even once walked into the Rec room to find them speaking to each other in hushed Japanese. Genji had said something with exaggerated exasperation and Hanzo had chuckled. You were caught between feeling like an intruder and wanting to continue to watch the moment unfold.

They had both been traumatized by what transpired between them, or as Hanzo was adamant in saying ‘what he did to Genji.’ The phrasing was important to him. No one, not even Genji himself, was allowed to placate him in saying it was just something that happened. Hanzo had nearly killed Genji, that was a fact and though he had started to let go of his guilt that was the one reminder he was determined to keep.

Either way, they both suffered. And there was no one right way to deal with it. But they were trying. And that was all that mattered. You were proud of him. You were proud of both of them. They would likely never be as they had been as children, but perhaps through their mutual healing they could find a peace they had never known before. You hoped so. Hanzo was your lover and Genji was your friend, you wanted what was best for both of them. They would get there. You had faith and more importantly, so did they.

Hanzo rose to his feet and walked off, presumably to prepare for tonight. You watched him go, partly lost in thought about his progress on his personal journey, partly visualizing what he would do to you tonight, and partly watching his exceptionally fine ass as he walked away.

Suddenly aware that you were very obviously checking him out in a public space you quickly glanced around to see if anyone was watching you. From across the training hall you spotted Hana hopping out of her mech to talk to a very excited Lucio. Lucio, you knew, was the type to be excited for everyone’s good news and improvements so it was no surprise he let Hana gush about her upgrades and even popped up with a question every now and then. Beside them though was Genji, who had his faceplate off and had his body angled in your direction.

You locked eyes with him and in that moment you knew he had seen you with Hanzo, had seen you ogling his brother unabashedly. You wondered if maybe you should feel ashamed, but immediately dismissed the thought. Why should you be ashamed of appreciating your lover’s…assets? Making sure to not break eye contact you raised an eyebrow at him. You knew he wouldn’t be angry, but there was a very real possibility that he would tease you mercilessly for it. Your worry over his judgement was unnecessary, however, when Genji was unable to keep the smile off of his face. You returned it wholeheartedly. He was happy seeing his brother happy. He and Hanzo had that in common. And Hanzo says they’re nothing alike, you thought with a roll of your eyes.

Standing up and brushing off your pants you gave Genji a little wave before turning and almost skipping out of the training hall. Before you were completely out of earshot Genji called after you, “Have fun!” he shouted in a teasing voice.

You shot him a devilish smirk over your shoulder, “Oh I most certainly will!” you replied with a cheeky wiggle of your fingers. A smile still on your face and Genji’s laugh echoing in your ears you hit the showers. This day was starting to look very promising.

Your mind was pleasantly occupied with thoughts of what was to come, and what had transpired to get you here. Stopping by one of the lockers just to the left of the door you grabbed your bag and ducked into one of the nearest stalls lining the wall. Stripping down, you tossed your sweaty clothes on top of the bag, uncaring that they weren’t folded. Turning on the water you gingerly stuck a foot under the spray and immediately pulled it back with a yelp. Cold, way too cold. Cupping your hands you splashed some of the cold water onto your overheated face, sighing in relief.

For an organization that was technically illegal you were surprised Overwatch had access to such good facilities and utilities. Though you reasoned it was likely, at least in part, due to the brilliant minds that worked under Overwatch’s banner. The water heated to your liking quickly and you hummed as you stepped under it and let it wash away the sweat and fatigue from the day’s training. With anticipation for tonight pricking your skin like a thousand tiny needles you thought back on when Hanzo had gotten his piercings.

* * *

After the first night you had spent together Hanzo stayed for the duration of your vacation. It was bliss, really. You spent the days walking the city streets, or staying inside, cozy by the fire. You even convinced him to have a snowball fight with you. Okay, so it was more like you just started pelting him with snowballs, but he retaliated quickly. Which is how you ended up flat on your back in the snow with his warm lips pressed to yours—no! Stop getting sidetracked, that’s a story for another time.

You spent the nights exploring each other’s bodies and desires. You found he rather liked when your nails left red streaks across his shoulders, back and chest, even his ass at one point. Though really, who could blame you? He found you liked him leaving marks all over you. You had even joked about being ‘marked by the dragon.’ He also found that if he kissed the spot just below your ear your knees would buckle. All in all, he found much more to tease you with and you had to scramble for any piece of information you could get on what he liked. The man was a quiet lover, preferring instead to watch your face contort in pleasure. It wasn’t as if he made a conscious decision to be quiet, he was just naturally reserved. He was raised that way.

Which is how you ended up having a conversation about kinks. It was the night before New Year’s Eve, or New Year’s Eve Eve as you called it. You had both had just a little too much to drink. Not truly drunk, but buzzed enough to have your inhibitions lowered.

You had been leaning against the single sofa in your flat, with your left side exposed to the heat of the fireplace. Hanzo sat to your right, taking swigs from whatever alcohol you had managed to scrounge up. He pulled the bottle away from his lips with a grimace. “This is truly awful.” He sounded appalled that something so offensive to the taste buds could even exist, and yet he took another drink all the same.

You laughed and tugged the bottle from his hands, knocking back a few sips. “I know.” You didn’t even really like alcohol, but you remembered someone once told you that you don’t drink it for the taste. You hadn’t understood what they meant then, but now you thought you might get it.

He gave you a questioning look, “Then why do you drink it?” You held out the bottle to him, purposefully waiting to see if he would take it before you spoke. When he took it from you without a second thought you smirked to yourself. You shrugged and leaned your head back, closing your eyes to make the room feel a little less like it was spinning.

It was silent between the two of you for a few comfortable moments. All you could hear was the crackling of the fire and the slosh of liquid in a glass bottle. You were so comfortable and delightfully tipsy that you felt like you could fall asleep like that. Since he Hanzo had shown up you felt like everything was in its place, like you could handle anything life threw at you. Suddenly Hanzo cleared his throat and your head snapped up to look at him, hoping he hadn’t noticed you dozing off. “You said something before…something about my feelings towards getting more piercings. What did you have in mind?”

You were surprised that he even remembered that little offhanded comment, let alone took it to heart. Yes, you found his new piercings attractive, but if he didn’t want more you most definitely wouldn’t attempt to pressure him into getting any. “Oh. Well it was just a joke, mostly.” You waved him off, putting a hand to your over-warm cheek. It just because of the alcohol and the fire, right? You were definitely not blushing.

He furrowed his brow. “’Mostly’ implies that there was some truth to it, yes? So, if it were up to you, what would you have me pierce?” Hanzo chose his words carefully. He knew you valued his right to choose what he wanted. Too many people had taken his life’s choices out of his hands; you were determined not to be another in that long line.

Pursing your lips you thought for a moment. He was calm and looked more than a little curious. You decided that it was worth it to take the risk and tell him. He had gotten the piercings he had now of his own free will, with no coercion from anyone. Who knows, maybe he’ll actually like what you suggest. “Well…” you start, clearing your throat and sitting up on your knees, facing him. “First, if you don’t like anything I’m saying you can tell me no. All of this is just a suggestion.” Pausing, you studied his face and he nodded at you to continue.

You opened your mouth to explain, but quickly realized there was no way you were going to get this out without blushing fiercely. Fuck it. “You could get one or both of your nipples pierced.” Aware that your face was probably on fire you steadfastly kept your gaze averted. Having had conversations about piercings with friends before you didn’t really understand why it was so embarrassing now. Perhaps because he was your lover and you would be seeing much more of any body modification he got than any your friends had.

Wait, why wasn’t he vehemently shooting you down? Not that you would blame him. Mustering all pf your nerve you turned to look at him. His brow was scrunched in thought and his hand was stroking his beard. To your surprise he seemed to be seriously considering it. After a moment he looked up at you. “Anything else?” he asked, swishing the alcohol around.

Damn him he was going to drag your fantasies out into the light, wasn’t he? A part of you wondered if he was doing this on purpose, asking you to confess what you liked only to tease you about it. But you concluded that there was little to no basis behind that. Hanzo wasn’t the type to embarrass someone on purpose for his own amusement. At least not unprovoked. You had nothing to lose by telling him what you liked. Maybe he would even like it himself, maybe that was why he was asking what you liked: to try and find out about his own likes and preferences. He had lived his whole life as an instrument of someone else’s plans, this was probably the first time he had even considered exploring the intricacies of his sexuality. You hoped more than anything that it wouldn’t be his last. If he would have you, you would help him discover himself, not just sexually, but in every other way. You wanted to see who he would become with no one and nothing to hold him back.

Feeling marginally more confident you straightened up and looked him right in the eye. “You could also get piercings on your…” you trailed off, intentionally dropping your gaze to his lap. There was really no other way you could think of to broach the subject. Of course there were a thousand different phrases you could have used but every one of them sounded so crass in your head. Not that you were above being crass, per se, but there was a time and a place for that and not-so-subtly suggesting your boyfriend get his dick pierced was probably not the time.

He raised his eyebrows, following your gaze. You could see the exact moment it clicked for him. His mouth opened into a little ‘o’ shape and he mumbled a quiet, “Ah.” Tilting his head he stared down at his lap pensively. Wait, he was seriously considering it? Honestly you had heard from friends that some genital piercings could enhance pleasure for both parties during intercourse. But a lot of the men you knew would immediately say no to even the mere suggestion of a sharp object going anywhere near their genitals. Then again, Hanzo wasn’t really like most of the men you knew. That was sort of the point. Still deep in thought, he lifted his head and stared out the window, bringing the bottle to his lips for another drink. You watched and waited in silence with bated breath. If he said no you would drop the subject, no arguments to follow, but if he said yes…well you would have to wait months for them to heal before taking him for a test drive, so to speak. Either way, you were just happy he was considering it, happy that he saw everything with so much possibility now.

Hanzo inhaled deeply and knocked back the remaining liquid in the bottle. Then, agile as a cat, he got to his feet. You followed him up, confused and slightly miffed that even after the alcohol he had consumed he was still able to move unimpaired. He cracked his neck and shook his hands out. “Alright, let’s do it.” His words compared with his movements, like he was getting ready for a sparring match, made you give a surprised snort of laughter.

“We can’t do it right now, Hanzo.” You explained, setting a soothing hand on his arm. He furrowed his brow in confusion. Before he could ask ‘why not’ you continued, “First of all, it’s never a good idea to get things like piercings or tattoos when you’re drunk because you could regret it when you’re sober.” When you paused to take a breath you saw him open his mouth to protest, so you quickly added, “And even if you’re not technically drunk it’s still not a good idea.” This time you waited for him to nod before you continued, “And secondly you shouldn’t get piercings drunk because it makes you bleed more than you normally would.” You smiled and tried very hard to keep the laughter from your voice. “Though I like your enthusiasm and greatly appreciate your consideration, if you still want to do it tomorrow then I’ll fully support you.” Seemingly satisfied with that arrangement he sat back down, this time on the couch and not on the floor, with a little less grace than when he had stood up.

Plopping down next to him and laying your head on his shoulder you frowned, “Listen, I don’t want to sound like a broken record, but literally all of this is your choice. I’m just giving you options you might not have thought of.”

Huffing a laugh, Hanzo turned his head to press a kiss to your forehead. “I know that. I also know that you keep reminding me of that specifically because you don’t want to rob me of whatever newfound freedom I’ve acquired.” This time it was you who opened their mouth to protest, but before you could Hanzo wrapped his arms around you and half-tackled you to the couch. You yelped in surprise, but he only chuckled lightly, placing a quick peck on your nose. “I understand. I do. And I appreciate it. But you can’t keep walking on eggshells around me. That’s not how relationships work. I want to discover new things with you, not have you watch from the sidelines in case I fall and get hurt.” You pursed your lips, pink starting to dust your cheeks. He was right, of course, you shouldn’t and couldn’t keep treating him like he was made of glass. You must have still looked worried because he finished by saying, “Everything I do from this moment forward is of my own free will. You are free to speak your mind and I am free to follow my heart.” His eyes had been gentle, inviting, if only a little cloudy from the drink. You nodded, trusting him to call you on your shit if you started babying him again.

It was only later that night, after you were both thoroughly sated and mostly sober that you told him that it might also be fun to have a tongue ring. Now that you had already told him the most, shall we say, intrusive piercings you found it much easier to propose this one as well. He had laughed and asked if there was anything else he should get. Humoring him, you pretended to ponder the question. Then you shrugged and told him no, but if he had any ideas for you that you were willing to consider them.

The next day, after intensive vetting of local parlors Hanzo got the piercings you suggested. Though you had been vague on the specifics in the first place, so he chose the ones he liked best, stating that if he didn’t like them he could always let them close up. He had decided to get the single tongue piercing and pierce only his left nipple. As far as the other piercings went he decided to go with the Dydoe and the Frenum piercings. A bar trough the coronal ridge and bars on the underside of his shaft.

The days following that were somewhat difficult, only because there were limitations on just about everything sexual they could do. It was unwise to have sex while piercings were healing and on top of that he wasn’t even really allowed to French kiss you for 4-6 weeks. Needless to say it was hard for two people who had only recently become lovers to keep their hands off of each other. Hanzo took it without complaint, which you tried very hard to emulate, but he knew when you were frustrated. That isn’t to say that all things sexual were forbidden. You could both still use your hands, if you were careful, but there was always that lingering desire to be connected completely.

As time went on it got easier, though no less frustrating. The both of you worked around your limitations, either satisfying each other or yourselves when the urge became too much. Sex wasn’t necessary for a relationship, but that was not to say that, for two people who felt sexual attraction to each other, it was easy.

Sometimes when the sexual tension was at a high the two of you would vent it out by talking about what you liked. You liked this particular alternative. It gave Hanzo an opportunity to talk about things he had always wanted to try and it gave you an opportunity to introduce him to things he had never even thought to try. It was therapeutic to talk so freely, you could talk to each other without having to worry about being judged or ridiculed. That was how he had revealed he had always wanted to try tying up his partner. That alone already had you interested, but when he had followed it up by saying he might also like to try dominating you you had had to take several steadying breaths to calm yourself down. Really your sexual preferences fluctuated, you liked being dominated and you like dominating, it all depended on the mood and the person you were with. You readily agreed that when he had fully healed the two of you would try both aspects of his fantasy. And in the meantime you asked him not to be shy about anything else he might like; you were open to trying just about anything at least once.

* * *

You were snapped out of your thoughts by a boisterous group entering the showers. By their voices you could tell that it was Hana, Mei and Fareeha. You had been clean for quite some time and had only loitered under the rapidly decreasing warm water because, for whatever reason, the shower was one of the best places to think. Sighing, you shut the water off and stuck your hand out of the curtain to grab the towel hanging just outside of the stall. Drying yourself off quickly you draped the towel over the side of the stall for now. Shoving aside your discarded clothes for now you rummaged through your bag for fresh ones. They were easily found, as you replenished your training bag every day after training. You dressed quickly, pulling aside the curtain and stepping into the main area of the showers. Shivering slightly at the drop in temperature you gathered up your belongings and made to go back to your room.

Before you could make your exit, however, Hana called out to you, instantly halting the conversation she had been having with the gaggle of girls. “A little birdie told me you were staring at the archer’s ass earlier.” You turned and saw her smirking at you with a gleam of mischief in her eyes. Fareeha and Mei looked at the two of you staring each other down and then looked at each other and shrugged, taking a few steps back to watch the action unfold.

When you had first been recruited into Overwatch Hana had been confrontational. Not unkindly so, just pointless arguments over stupid little things. At first you had been confused and thought you had done something to make her dislike you, but she never seemed to do it with any malice, and if she noticed you getting too upset she would stop and apologize. It had taken you weeks of slamming your head against a wall in frustration to realize she did it as a way of bonding with you. Then you wanted to slam your head against a wall because of your stupidity. After that you started firing back at her, starting debates over trivial things. When she noticed you doing it with amusement in your eyes she beamed and thus a friendship was born. Built on the mutual love of loud boisterous arguments that usually left you both laughing too hard to continue.

So you knew she was doing this now to get a rise out of you, and you delivered. “A little birdie? That birdie wouldn’t have happened to have been a sparrow, would it?” you asked, cocking an eyebrow at her.

Her smirk widened into a full-on shit-eating grin and she shrugged nonchalantly. “Maybe, who knows? Is it true?” she pushed, excited that you were playing along. That, and almost every Overwatch agent was a horrible, horrible gossip. It was something of an epidemic. Almost no secret could be kept for more than a few hours. The moment you and Hanzo had returned, together no less, from the winter holiday everyone had guessed that you were…together, in the colloquial sense. Though, you supposed that since he had changed his appearance after leaving base and before coming to see you that it was a give-away that something had changed. There had been no point in denying it, and several people had mumbled ‘finally’ after the two of you had confirmed it.

So if Hana was fishing for information on your relationship with Hanzo, and if she happened to get any, she would spread it across base like wildfire. Thankfully, Hanzo was already a private sort of person; not seeing any reason to hide his feelings for you, but also not seeing any reason to tell people things they didn’t need to know about the two of you. However, just because everyone happened to know you and Hanzo were a couple now doesn’t mean they needed to know every minute detail about your relationship.

You returned her shrug with one of your own, throwing the strap of your bag over your shoulder. “Maybe, who knows?” you parroted back to her, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “We are in a relationship, it’s not like I’m staring at him because I can’t work up the nerve to talk to him.” You rolled your eyes.

Hana feigned seriousness, very poorly you might add. “No…just surveying your kingdom.” She said with barely contained laughter. “’Everything the light touches is your kingdom’ and all that.” She snickered, lowering her voice to fit her imitation.

Seeing your chance to win this little stand-off you tilted your head to the side in mock confusion. “No…” you started slowly, as if it was glaringly obvious. “Have you seen his ass? Trust me, there are no light touches.” You winked and quickly made your escape. You heard more than one gasp from behind you and desperately fought the urge to cackle maniacally. If they wanted juicy gossip that was all they were going to get. You had a night to remember to look forward to.

With the sun just having set the training hall was mostly empty. The few that remained were finishing up and heading to take their own showers before either calling it a night or going to the Mess Hall for some grub. As for you, you decided that you were going to need extra energy for tonight so you headed back to your room to drop off your bag before going to the Mess. The walk back to your room was quiet, which was unusual for a base full of loud and rowdy individuals. But you didn’t question it, you didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth, not wanting to get stuck in a conversation when all you wanted was to eat and go back to your room.

Oh, and when you say your room you mean yours and Hanzo’s. None of the higher ups cared if agents fraternized with each other. Overwatch might look and maybe even sound like a military operation, but you were all technically rebels and outlaws. All of you were here because you chose to be, because you believed the world needed Overwatch again. No one cared enough to enforce a ‘no fraternizing’ policy when you had bigger problems to deal with. This isn’t to say that the sharing of rooms and the occasional walk of shame wasn’t a huge topic of conversation. You supposed you all needed something to keep the mood lighthearted, something to keep you sane. The teasing was never too horrible and if someone got upset about it, it ended there. Because, really, who in their right mind would intentionally antagonize people who could obliterate them in ten seconds flat?

You entered your room quietly. “Well it looks like Hanzo isn’t here yet.” You mumbled, hitting the light switch. Overwatch rooms weren’t extraordinarily spacious, but they weren’t broom closets either. Each room came with a bathroom attached to it, a large metal wardrobe jutting out from the wall, a desk that was nothing particularly special, and a bed that was built into the wall to account for its larger than Twin size. You half-wondered if they purposely made the beds big enough to fit two people; they were just this side of comfortable with two bodies crammed into them. It wouldn’t be surprising, sex was a good way to alleviate stress, and Overwatch was certainly a stressful organization to be a part of, as much as you loved it. Not only that, but even without sex the comfort of another warm body next to yours while you slept was a powerful thing.

Regardless of whether or not the commanders were encouraging relationships of any kind even in some small way, the rooms were perfect in your opinion. You had never really needed much space, just having a place to live was enough for you. And now you had someone to share it with. If it was cramped you didn’t notice, far too happy living in a strange twist on domestic bliss.

Tugging the chair out from under the desk you dropped your bag into it. Then you set about rummaging through the bottom drawers on the wardrobe to find new clothes to put in it. With your hands pushing and pulling clothes out of your way to find the right set you bumped something thick with the back of your hand. Scrunching your brow you moved your clothes aside to reveal the red silk ropes you and Hanzo had gotten together weeks ago. You had forgotten this is where you had stored them, along with several other items that might come in handy in the future. Running your fingertips along the grain of the silk you wondered how it would feel against your wrists, taught and sweaty, pressing into your flesh as you wriggled, trying desperately to free yourself, to touch him as he—

Blushing, you shoved the ropes back into the drawer, snatched up your clothes and all but slammed the drawer shut. There was no point in getting worked up now. Nope, none at all. Because you would know exactly what it felt like in an hour or two, maybe less…hopefully less. No, get ahold of yourself. What was wrong with you? You had gone months without feeling his cock inside you and had been able to deal with it, but now that the end of that drought was in sight you couldn’t seem to take your mind off of it. Though the thought of how well he would fill you tonight made a pleasant shiver roll down your spine. He would have to start slow at first, his calloused fingers pumping in and out of your aching cunt, prepping you for the stretch of his thick cock inside you. Now, though, there would be the added sensation of his piercings.

A sharp slap to your face pulled you out of your thoughts. You hadn’t hit yourself hard enough for it to truly hurt, just enough to leave a sting. Geez, girl, you’re a mess. The notion of taking another shower, colder this time was tempting, but you really needed to eat something. Maybe that would distract you. It was unlikely, your nerves were in full-swing. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach, their silken wings beating against your ribcage, threatening to choke you if you didn’t release them soon. The thought that your empty stomach was metaphorically full of butterflies made you snort in laughter and then roll your eyes at your own lame humor.

Cooled off for now your stomach chose that exact moment to rumble. “Yeah, yeah I hear ya.” You muttered, hoisting yourself up and heading for the door. The closer you got to the Mess Hall the livelier the quiet base got. It wasn’t too late yet so most of the recruits and agents were still loitering about even if they had finished their meals. You quickly got your own meal, something light but packed with protein and vitamins to give you energy. You didn’t want to risk being far too tired to do anything tonight. Scooping up a bottle of water you turned and scouted for a table.

Luckily for you, Lucio spotted you and waved you over. You gave him a bright smile as you sat across from him, and next to Fareeha. To Lucio’s right sat Hana, no food in front of her but her handheld clutched firmly in her hands. “You ok? You look a little out of it.” Lucio asked, a concerned furrow in his brow.

You shook your head, focusing on him now. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just…a little thirsty I guess.” You lied, trying to play it off. You did not need them asking questions. Giving Lucio a sheepish smile you uncapped your water and took a gulp.

“Yeah I bet you are.” Hana muttered under her breath from beside Lucio, without even looking up from her game.

Fareeha inhaled sharply, turning her face to hide her blush, or maybe to hide her laughter. You choked on your water for a second time that day and pounded your fist against your chest. Lucio looked back and forth between the three of you, “Did I miss something?” he queried suspiciously.

You shook your head frantically, “Nope. Nothing. Just Hana being Hana.” You laughed awkwardly, starting to shovel food into your mouth. Maybe if you ate quickly and disappeared fast enough you wouldn’t need to wish for a giant hole to open in the Earth and swallow you up.

You could see Hana’s smirk even though her face was turned downwards. “Yep. Just Hana being Hana.” She concurred, tapping away at her handheld. Fareeha cleared her throat and went back to eating, a blush high on her cheeks. “You shouldn’t eat so fast, though, wouldn’t want you to choke again.” Hana said in an over-sweet tone, looking up at you.

You swallowed heavily, staring her down the whole time. Her lips twitched but she said nothing more and went back to her game. Lucio’s eyes darted between the two of you for a second longer, “Riiiight, well…okay then!” he chirped, seemingly content to drop the conversation. You silently thanked him for having the grace not to pry. You were far too right high-strung now, only wanting to go back to your room.

Come to think of it, you hadn’t seen Hanzo since you had entered the Mess Hall. You looked around now, trying to spot him, but came up empty handed. That meant that he had more than likely already eaten and was off meditating somewhere, probably the roof. He liked the roof and so did you. For him it was probably something to do with him being an archer and having a good vantage point, but for you, you just liked the open air, feeling like the whole world lay at your feet. Regardless of where he was, he liked to meditate after the ‘work’ day was done, to separate work life and domestic life. Though he also liked to meditate just after waking up too, and sometimes you even joined him. You had never meditated before you met Hanzo but you found it quite relaxing actually. And it even seemed to help with your anxiety.

It was hard to get into at first, to just turn off your thoughts and focus on the way you breathed. Hanzo had told you not to control your breathing, just feel the way your chest expanded, the way your shoulders moved. But once you got the hang of it you rather enjoyed it and as an added bonus Hanzo seemed happy to spend time with you like this. Not that he wasn’t happy to spend time with you in any way possible, but he was glad to see you trying new things just to be with him.

Lost in your thoughts you left the other three to their conversations, munching away on your meal at a steady pace. You followed them with your eyes though, noticing how Fareeha covered her mouth when she giggled, how Hana talked with her hands and how Lucio couldn’t seem to sit still when he got too into the conversation. You found you enjoyed spending time with the other agents like this, not specifically engaged in the conversation but merely observing them when they spoke. They were all your friends and it warmed your heart to see them so animated about things they cared deeply for. You always thought people were at their most beautiful when they were talking about or doing something they loved.

They all seemed to notice you were a bit distracted tonight, but thankfully no one pushed you on the subject. Their concern was touching, but wholly unnecessary. You were fine, just a bit preoccupied. When you were done eating you finished off your water and gathered your dishes. “I’m gonna call it a night, guys, see you tomorrow!” you reported with a smile.

Swinging your legs over the bench you got up and made to dispose of your dishes, but before you could Hana lifted her head. “Have a good night.” She sang suggestively.

You tilted your head at her curiously. Did they know something? You shook your head and waving with your free hand you muttered, “Honestly what is with everyone and the innuendo today?” From behind you, you heard Hana snort and someone, probably Fareeha, slap a hand to their forehead.

“Okay I am definitely missing something here.” Lucio accused definitively.

You could almost hear Hana rolling her eyes. “Yeah, the point. You’re never on it.” She joked lightheartedly.

The last thing you heard while you were in earshot was an affronted gasp and Lucio assuming a horribly fake southern drawl. “Well I never!” he exclaimed theatrically.

Quickly disposing of your dishes you dashed out of the Mess Hall before anyone else decided to tease you. It was all in good fun, but you didn’t think your heart or mind could take it right now. Once you cleared the doors of the Hall you breathed an audible sigh of relief. The halls were blissfully empty with most people occupied with their nightly rituals. Now you slowed your pace. What the fuck? Why? You had been chomping at the bit to get back to your room and into your lover’s arms, or rather the bonds he would have you in tonight. But now you found that you couldn’t force your feet to move faster.

With each step you took your heart hammered in your chest. It was so loud that for a moment you thought it was playing over the overhead intercoms scattered all over base, broadcasting your emotions to the entirety of Overwatch. Stopping in the middle of the hallway you closed your eyes and took a deep cleansing breath. You weren’t even nervous, really. It was excitement. It was that feeling right before you know something amazing is about to happen, when you just can’t sit still and you’re hyperaware of everything and nothing at the same time. It was the rush right before you did something don’t normally do. Your blood sang in your veins and you had to fight the bubble of laughter trying to escape you. You clenched and unclenched your hands, shaking them out. You wondered if you were this excited because you and Hanzo were exploring parts of his sexuality he never had before or if you were excited at the reality of having him inside you again.

Opening your eyes and blowing out a forceful breath you started on your way again. Careful to keep your steps sure and steady you were almost tempted to count them. No, that would be ridiculous. You always did this: tried to distract yourself from your nerves by thinking of literally anything else, even if it was stupid. Originally it was to calm your heart in case you ended up disappointed, but not it was so you didn’t pounce on him the moment you were alone together. Would he already be in your room? What if he wasn’t? How were you supposed to act in that case? Get yourself ready by stripping down or waiting for him to do it for you?

Your constant internal questions and all your speculating made the walk to your room pass by quickly. But now you had a new problem. You couldn’t open the door. You stood frozen just outside the door to your room, like some kind of creepy stalker. This is stupid, you thought, this is my room too and we are expecting each other. Gnawing on your bottom lip you muster every ounce of courage you could find and open the door.

This time when you enter the lights were already on. That by itself was a dead giveaway that Hanzo was here, but also the fact that the man himself was sitting on the bed might have tipped you off. Stepping farther into the room made you feel like a tree coming to life, ripping its roots out of the earth and shakily walking forward on legs never used before.

Hanzo sat relaxed on the bed, his feet flat on the floor. He had already removed his shoes and in his lap was the red silk rope you had basically fondled earlier. “Hanzo.” You greet, unsure of how to begin or continue or whatever.

Hanzo eyes you for a moment, his eyes traveling down your body slowly. It feels almost as good as if he was caressing you with his hands. You shiver under his scrutiny, reveling in the heat you find in his gaze. Then, the atmosphere lifts and he stands, raising his hand to stroke your cheek gently. There is a question in his eyes. “Are you ready?” he asks quietly, the gentle look on his face calming you instantly.

You nod, but that only makes his brow furrow. Oh right, verbal confirmation. “Yes.” You affirm wholeheartedly.

As soon as the word left your mouth his eyes darken. He steps closer to you, his warm breath ghosting over your lips. Taking your chin in a firm grasp he tilted it up sharply. “Yes, what?” It was a test. You knew it was. But one you were prepared to pass with flying colors.

“Yes, sir.” You simper, a look of contrition on your face. You remember asking him if he wanted you to call him anything specific when you did this. He had looked deep in thought for long moments and eventually you had just started naming common things to call a Dom. When you said ‘sir’ his eyes had darkened, his pupils dilating subtly. Offhandedly you wonder what it was about that specific title that does it for him, but that is a question for another time. If there’s a story behind it, you want to know.

His lips twitched but he didn’t smile. You would have to earn those tonight. You would have to please him. The thought was an aphrodisiac all its own. Stepping back he nods at you and sits back down on the bed. You wait patiently for an order. He observes you again, tilting his head coyly. His eyes snap back to yours all of the sudden and you hold your breath. “Strip.” He commands, not unkindly, more indifferent. Earn his praise.

Stepping back into the center of the room you obey. Starting with your shirt, a plain back thing with the Overwatch emblem emblazoned on it, you pull it off slowly. It’s hard to make removing a t-shirt look sexy, but you tried. Tossing it aside you started to toe off your shoes but Hanzo clucked his tongue at you. “That’s not where that goes, is it?” he asks, pointing to the crumpled up shirt now lying on the floor.

Quickly remedying your mistake you pick it up, “No, sir. Forgive me.” You say demurely, knowing if you don’t respond it may lead to punishment. You deliberately bend at the waist to show off your ass. An appreciative hum comes from behind you and you allow yourself a small smirk, though it is gone by the time you stand up straight and turn back around.

Hanzo has leaned back on his palms, the silken rope draped innocently over his lap. Except it’s anything but innocent. It’s a promise of what’s to come. “Good girl.” He whispers and you shudder. Oh you know that one is going to come back to bite you. You didn’t even know you liked being praised. But now he does and you can tell by the glimmer in his eyes you’ve just given him some very powerful ammunition. He watches you with a carefree tilt of his head. You neatly fold the shirt and place it in the training bag you had left on the desk chair earlier. Now you toe off your shoes, setting them by the chair as well. The socks go next, two parallel lines streaking across the fabric of your t-shirt. You turn away from him and undo the clasp on your pants.

Bending at the waist again you start to push them over your hips. “Slower.” He says thickly. If a little strip tease is getting to him you wonder how long he will even last with you tied up. It’s unlikely to be long. The excitement of trying something new mixed with the bliss he’ll feel buried deep inside of you after so long will probably be too much for him to take. It will probably be too much for you to take. You anticipate coming twice tonight, at the very least. Slowing your pace with a murmured ‘yes, sir’ you ease your pants over your hips and down your legs, your hands roving over your newly exposed flesh. The pants get folded just as neatly as the rest, placed just so on top of your other discarded clothes.

Without turning to face him you reach behind you and unhook your bra. Holding the cups with one hand you slip the straps off your shoulders and catch it as it falls. The bra you drape over the back of the chair. Now you stand almost completely naked, only one thing standing between you and what you want most right now. You feel a sort of pleasure in and of itself by pulling off your panties, your ass in the air. Hanzo’s breath hitches. It’s foolish really. He sees you naked all the time. Sometimes in a sexual context and sometimes just when you’re changing clothes. But it’s the implication that gets to him. You know. It’s getting to you too.

Stepping carefully out of your underwear you stand up with a slight shiver. With one hand you hold your panties over the pile of your clothes. You wait. One second, two, then drop them and they fall silently to rest on top of the other pieces of fabric. The silent sound it makes is deafening, like the part in a movie where something falls in slow motion to the ground and makes a terribly loud sound on impact. It feels like that. Like with the last of your clothing gone something new has begun.

You turn to face him now, shameless in your nudity. That was one rule that had been mandatory. Shame was not something either of you were supposed to feel when delving into the depths of your sexuality. And besides that there is absolutely no reason for you to feel shame. He may be playing the part of a dominating lover but his desire for you is evident in the way he looks at you. He has sat up now, his forearms braced on his knees. His eyes are dark, his knuckles white where he grips the rope between his hands. You’ve never felt sexier than you do right now. He stands and lifts the rope to his teeth. Now it’s you who’s watching his every move. The rope caught between his teeth holds a powerful suggestion. And you can tell he knows exactly what that suggestion is by the way he smirks around the silk.

You want to slap him. You want to kiss him. The two warring impulses make you unable to move. You merely stand there as he slides his hands down his chest, feeling the taught muscles there. He grips the hem of his shirt and lifts it just so you get a tantalizing peek of his toned abs. You inhale sharply. Okay now you get why you stripping was so good for him. If just his stomach could change your breathing you wonder if you’ll even survive when he takes off his pants. He doesn’t tease you further, however, both of you slightly too impatient to take the teasing to its height. Quickly pulling off his shirt he tosses it aside with a cheeky grin.

You’re tempted to roll your eyes. Of course he’s allowed to be messy, he’s in charge tonight. But good girls don’t give sir any sass. And you are a good girl. You try very hard to keep your face from splitting into a grin to match his. It’s infectious, being with him and seeing him so happy. Instead you clasp your hands in front of you and await his next order. Hanzo takes the rope from between his teeth and reaches for your hands, tugging you farther into the room. He stops you when you’re dead center, stepping away to walk a slow circle around you. You should feel exposed or maybe even embarrassed, but all you feel is wanted. It’s a good feeling. One you could easily get used to.

He prowls around you like a predator stalking its prey, or maybe like an animal about to pounce on its mate. You decide you like that gaze. “Put your hands behind your back.” He murmurs lowly, his tone suggesting he fully expects you to cooperate. You do, and inwardly delight in the confidence in his voice. Swinging your hands behind your back you cross them at the wrist. “Good girl.” He purrs, his fingertips gliding down your spine in a feather-light touch. You shiver, the very beginnings of a whine starting to leave your lips. You purse them to catch the sound, but Hanzo has already heard enough to know how he affects you.

You fight to keep your wrists in place when all you want to do is touch him. The urge is nearly unbearable now. You can’t even imagine what it will be like once he’s started to touch you in earnest. He steps closer to you, every movement languid and measured. You can feel his hot breath on your ear, on your neck as he inhales deeply, his lips just barely grazing your flesh. Deciding then and there that there is no way you’ll last the whole night trying to conceal your reactions, you whimper softly. Hanzo seems pleased by this development, his lips curving into a smile. He rewards you with one warm kiss to the side of your neck.

Your hands twitch from their carefully composed position and that is when you realize that he’s already tied them with the silk rope. A squeak of surprise passes your lips. Sometimes you forget he was trained in stealth. Stupidly you think ‘holy shit, has he been slowing down his movements this whole time just to seem average?’ The thought is fleeting as he chuckles quietly in your ear, nipping lightly at the cuff. “Surprised, kitten?” he inquires, brushing his knuckles down your arm as he steps away.

Kitten. That was a new one. He had never called you that before. You were surprised at how much you liked it. He walks around you, standing directly in front of you. Raising his hand to your face he tugs on your lower lip with his thumb. “Speak your mind.” His voice is softer now, lacking the heat from just a moment ago. He’s asking if this is okay.

The blatant concern for your feelings he shows you makes your shoulders relax. You hadn’t even realized you were carrying tension there. You smile at him, thankful for the affection you see in his eyes. He brushes his knuckles across your cheek lightly, just below your lashes. “Only surprised I didn’t notice you restraining me, sir.” There are still tight lines around his mouth so you take it a step further, “I like it though. This is what I want. Sir.” You whisper sultrily, adding emphasis to the title he has adopted.

You see his breath catch, his throat bobbing as he swallows. For a split second his persona breaks and he surges forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. You can taste the impatience and desire in his kiss. Parting your lips roughly he thrusts his tongue into your mouth. Not even bothering to suppress the shudder that runs down your shoulder blades you moan happily into his mouth. You still have yet to fully get used to the feel of his tongue ring against yours, the warm metal pressing against the roof of your mouth, clicking against your teeth.

Just as quickly as he kissed you he pulls away, his breathing somewhat labored. Letting his hand fall away from you he steps back, fully back in the dominating zone. “On your knees.” He instructs, his voice husky with desire. If you had horrible balance that would be a difficult feat, as it stands though you find the task easy enough to complete. Lowering yourself to your knees you maintain eye contact. He sweeps the bangs from your forehead, his fingers sliding to your chin to tilt it just a little more. He leans over you so that you have to crane your neck to see his face. A desirous look on his face he says, “Tell me again that this is what you want.”

“This is what I want, sir.” You repeat, your voice stronger this time, firmer.

He eases up, removing his hand from your chin and placing them on the clasp of his pants. It’s impossible to miss the implication and impossible to miss the bulge just in front of your face. “And what do you want, kitten?” he asks, fingering the button tauntingly.

You can feel your mouth start to water. You’ve wanted this for so long. Your eyes dart from his face down to his hands and back. “I want to suck your cock, sir.” You purr, parting your lips and watching his pupils dilate as his eyes dart down to the movement of your mouth.

This time it’s him who shivers, closing his eyes for a brief moment. When he opens them again they are feral pools of black. You’ve never seen a look so seductive; feeling like the heat and desire in his gaze could consume you whole. Without breaking eye contact with you he undoes his pants and pushes them down to his ankles. He kicks them aside, uncaring of where they land. He takes himself in hand and watches you. Slow, sure strokes up and down his shaft. He watches your chest your eyes blow wide with lust, watches your chest rise and fall faster with each breath, watches the way your lips part instinctively. He’s already fully hard, the stroking is purely for your benefit. To tease you, to torture you, to make you want with every fiber of your being. And you do. You want him. In your mouth, in your cunt, aching to be filled. “Open your mouth.” He commands. His voice has shifted again, thick with promise, thick with need.

You obey immediately. Hanzo shifts slightly and the tip of his cock touches your tongue. The reaction is instantaneous. It’s been too long since anything this warm, this wet has touched him here. He releases a shuddering breath. Already you can taste the salt of his skin, the tang of his pre-cum. He’s close enough to you now that you only need to lean a little farther forward to plant a wet kiss to the head of his cock. This makes him draw in a sharp breath. You want to take your time and coax each and every one of those lovely sounds from his lips, but you’re far too impatient at this juncture.

You slip your tongue a far down the underside of his shaft as you can comfortably reach and then back up, teasing him just a bit more. It’s only fair. His bedroom eyes and all his feather-light touches have you unbearably warm, rubbing your thighs together as much as you are able. Then you look back up at him, right in his beautiful brown eyes, and close your lips over the head. Hanzo hisses in pleasure, his teeth catching on his bottom lip. Right away you start to feel the difference his piercings have made, the metal barbell on is coronal ridge bumps against the roof of your mouth and you hum appreciatively. He drops his head back and groans.

The more of him you take in the less he can keep eye contact, his eyes flitting across your face or shutting entirely as you pull him deeper. As you reach the first bar in his shaft he moves his hand to your jaw line, fleeting touches as if he can’t keep his hands off of you but is unsure of where to touch. Fingertips tracing up your jawline to your cheekbone, thumb ghosting over the skin. The touch makes you look up at him, your eyes meeting. That wild, animalistic look in his eyes makes you twitch, itching to touch him, to hold his hips and bob your head up and down on his cock. You settle for swirling your tongue against him as much as you can, pushing farther forward. This is where things get tricky. Thankfully you know what you’re doing. Relaxing your throat and opening your lips farther you manage to take him in completely.

Hanzo’s hand strikes, quick as a snake, burying his fingers in your hair and holding you down on his cock for half a beat. The half a second seems to last an eternity. You strain your wrists, the silk digging into your skin. Then he pulls you off him completely and you breathe deeply, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes. He pants softly, his fingers flexing in your hair. His hand comes down to cup your cheek and you nuzzle into his palm. Without waiting for another order you flick your tongue out, just over the slit, catching the drop of viscous liquid there. He tenses for a second before sighing and letting you take him into your mouth again.

You go slower this time, wanting this to last. Objectively you know this phase of the night is nearing its end. You know he won’t want to finish in your mouth. Not after so long of being deprived of the heat of your core. He wants to be inside of you when he comes. You want that too, though you won’t pretend you aren’t a least a little bit disappointed that you won’t get to see the hungry way he watches you eagerly swallow his release. There will be other nights, you placate yourself. Tonight you are more than content to have him finish inside of you. The thought sends a pang of desire through your core, tingling in the tips of your toes, curling them. You worry less about taking him in fully and focus more on the actual stimulation. Gripping the silk bound around your wrists you close your eyes and hollow your cheeks. You moan around his girth, wanting desperately to touch yourself, to touch him, anything. He watches the crease form between your brows and strokes his thumb over your temple. “You’re so beautiful.” He breathes, as if he can’t quite believe this is all happening.

The sentiment makes your heart thump painfully in your chest. You have an inexplicable urge to tell him you love him. But as soon as the softness in his eyes appears it disappears just as quickly, replaced by heat and molten desire. “So beautiful with your pretty lips wrapped around my cock.” He coos. You hum and bat your eyelashes at him. The bars on his shaft slide against your lower lip each time you bob your head. The metal feels strange and foreign on your tongue, but no less pleasant for it. You wonder giddily what they will feel like inside of you. Shifting, you plant your knees just slightly farther apart. The tight lid you’ve been keeping on your own lust flies off and you feel heat pooling between your thighs. You know you must look a mess. Hair mussed, sweaty and slobbering all over him and yourself, but there’s not much you can do about that with your hands quite literally tied. Not that you mind. The mess only adds to your mounting desire.

You need him, something, inside of you. And soon. Feeling as though you might go mad without it you whine and pull off of him slowly with a wet pop. “Please, sir, I want you to fuck me.” You entreat ardently. The way you say it so sweetly, so innocently makes it sound that much dirtier. Hanzo makes a choked off sound in the back of his throat, his eyes closing briefly. You know he doesn’t need it, but you can’t help giving him just one more tiny push, “Haven’t I been a good girl?” you pout, your flushed cheeks puffed.

A look flashes across his face, as if he can’t quite decide if you’re being cute or sexy. Why does it have to be one or the other? You should be able to find your lover both cute and sexy, especially in times like these. His hands fall away from your face, flexing uselessly at his sides. His cock is still hot, and hard and glistening in front of your face and you’re so tempted to just finish him off him, to make him buck into your mouth and cry out as he comes down your throat. But then this would be over too fast, and you need to feel him tonight. Your eyes linger too long on his length and he grips your chin, forcing you to look him in the eye. The corners of his lips quirk upwards, “Yes, kitten, you have been a very good girl.” He croons, his finger stroking your jaw. “I think it’s time I rewarded you.”

You very nearly squeal in excitement, but manage to suppress it just in time. He pulls you up gently but his grip on your chin. Your legs wobble as you try to take a step, all the blood rushing back into them. You stumble and cry out, but before you can fall Hanzo drops your chin, dipping and scooping you up into his arms Bridal style. Or at least it would be if your hands weren’t still tied. The angle is uncomfortable and your breasts are pushed outwards because of your bonds. An absurd laugh bubbles up from your throat and you can’t catch before it slips passed your lips. You purse them quickly, but don’t hide the mirth in your eyes. Hanzo gives you an exasperated grin and shakes his head. “You really are a kitten. Can’t even walk right.” He says with a labored sigh.

You beam at him mischievously. “Hopefully I won’t be able to tomorrow either.” You say, trying and failing to keep the laughter from your voice. This time it’s Hanzo who stumbles, his cheeks going red. You roll your eyes at him. The man just had his cock down your throat and insinuating that he was going to fuck you so well you couldn’t walk straight was what made him blush? He carries you a few steps forward and then pauses in front of the bed. His brow furrows, perplexed as to how it should go from here. You allow yourself a small smile and wiggle in his arms. “Set me down, I can handle it now.”

He does as you ask and sets you gingerly on your feet, facing the bed. You can still feel the blood pumping back into your legs, pins and needles running through your veins. You flex curl your toes, helping the circulation when Hanzo suddenly pushes you over. It didn’t take much, you are still unsteady on your feet, and you hadn’t been expecting it. Your face hits the soft sheets, your cheek sliding against the fabric. On instinct you had tried to break your fall with your hands, causing the red rope around your wrists to chafe slightly. “Hanzo-!” you yelp, confused.

“You didn’t ask politely.” He breathes against your ear, his body draped over yours, his cock hot and hard against your ass. “Is that really how a good girl behaves?” he asks with a cluck of his tongue. The dark tone of voice makes you gasp, a shiver rolling down your spine in the wake of his fingertips tracing each knot and bump. The flat of his hand travels over your ass, cupping and squeezing it roughly. A strangled moan leaves you; feeling like the wind has been knocked from you. You like this sudden change. Hanzo pauses in his groping likely confused by the sound you made. Unsurprising. It had sounded something like you were in pain, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. “Color?” he asks after you, worry evident in his voice and the way he caresses your rear now.

You groan, tossing your head side to side on the bed, burying your face in the sheets. “Green, green green. Touch me, sir, Hanzo. Please.” You whimper. You appreciate his concern but it is wholly misplaced at this moment. He took charge, pushed you down, started to mount you and then stopped. Your cunt contracts painfully around nothing. You’re too turned on for this sweet torture, you need him now. “Please, Hanzo, I need—“ your words are cut off by your own gasp. He slips his fingers down to your aching center; just the tips teasing passed your lips. Your head lifts off the bed slightly and then his fingers are gone again as quickly as they had come.

“Since you beg so prettily for me I suppose I can forgive your transgression just this once.” He murmurs, leaning over you once more. The hand that had just been teasing you smacks your ass once, sharp, quick. The sound is more shocking than the feeling. He hadn’t hit you hard, just enough to bite. Then his hand is flat on your ass, your own wetness smearing across the cheek as he soothes the sting away. The ache goes straight to your throbbing cunt, making you moan and press back against him, silently begging for him. His hand continues to rub soothing circles on your ass, but the pace slows and it migrates southward. You’re hardly aware of the fact that you’re whispering ‘please’ over and over.

Hanzo pulls the hair out of your face and to the side so you can see your face. Then he braces his weight over you with his left hand flat on the bed next to your head. His fingers part your wet folds, exposing your heated core to the open air. The sensation makes you gasp and bite your lip. He runs his index finger up and down your sex. You’re used to his fingers by now, considering they’re just about the only thing that’s been getting you off in these past months. This is not to say that they don’t still excite you, it just means that when you’re this turned on you can take them easily without needing any stimulation to your clit first. Hanzo knows this, knows your body better than you do at this point. His index finger traces your entrance once, twice, and on the third revolution plunges knuckle deep into you.

You’ve felt so utterly empty up to this point that even just one of his fingers makes you arch off the bed, and press back against him harder. A guttural groan escapes you and you clench around him intentionally, delighting in the feeling. It’s good, it’s very good. But you want more, you want to take him now. But that won’t happen until he’s worked your tight cunt just a bit to prepare you for the stretch of his cock. “Hnngh, sir, please. Give me more, I can take it. I want you, please, please.” You beg unabashedly.

Hanzo hums, pressing a kiss to your sweaty shoulder. Your bangs are sweaty and sticking to your forehead, your legs starting to shake, but you can’t bring yourself to care. He obliges you without complaint or comment, slipping a second finger into you. He pumps them steadily, deep and sure. “I want to make sure you’re ready for me, kitten.” He murmurs soothingly as he adds a third finger. It’s a lot, but you know you need it. You haven’t had his cock inside you in months; you need to be well prepared. You moan and nod frantically, agreeing with him.

For long moments all you hear is the slick sound of his fingers moving inside you, your own panting breaths and the pounding of your heart. You’ve never been more thankful for the training he’s done, giving his fingers a truly impressive dexterity, not to mention the rough texture of his callouses against your walls. But it’s still not enough. You whine when his fingers no longer feel like too much. Thankfully Hanzo understands without you having to say anything. He pulls free from you and kisses your temple as you pant helplessly under him. He eases up off of you, and his comforting warmth and weight disappear. Popping your ass out and your hips up you whine again, “Hurry, pleasepleaseplease.” You’re babbling now, eager and desperate for him.

He hushes you gently, rubbing your hip in a calming gesture. You feel him press the tip of his cock to your sex. “Relax, kitten.” He whispers, his free hand running up and down your spine. You blow out the breath you hadn’t known you were holding and breathe deeply for a moment. The urgency is still there, but you’re no longer tense and already clenched. “Good girl.” He purrs, pressing the head of his cock into your entrance. You grip the bindings on your wrists and groan. The words, his voice and the sensation of him entering you are all almost too much. “Relax, relax.” It helps to have him remind you, the calm in his voice is both comforting and infuriating. How is he so calm when you’re an absolute mess?

You force yourself to relax again, rolling your shoulders as much as you are able with your hands bound. Hanzo waits until you no longer look manic and then starts to push into you again. You gasp when you feel the first piercing, the metal still feeling cold against your molten walls. It actually feels soothing, you sigh pleasantly and relax further, nearly boneless in his grasp. “That’s it, kitten, relax…good girl.” He croons to you, fingertips tracing nonsense patterns on your shoulder blades. If it was possible you were sure you would be purring.

But he’s only barely inside you, and now pressing deeper. You tense only slightly when he starts to stretch you open, breathing out heavily through your nose. Now the first bar on his shaft, the second, the third. Oh they feel nice. And so does the pleasant stretch of your walls accommodating his girth. You’re aware the noises you’re making are animalistic and needy, but you don’t have the capacity to feel shame right now, not while he’s making you feel so good. When he’s buried in you to the hilt he holds himself still for a long moment, until your body relaxes around him. Finally, finally, finally. You’ve been aching for this for months, you even dreamt about it sometimes. He’s thick and hot and pulsing and real inside of you. You take a moment to revel in the feeling of being full again, at last.

Then he grips your hips, pulls back and thrusts forward in one smooth motion. The sudden change in pace makes you hunch forward, your spine bending towards him. You spread your legs farther apart, pushing back on him each him he surges forward. The difference between a pierced and an unpierced cock is subtle at first, but the extra slide of the metal on your heated flesh, the press of it inside of you is delicious. Belatedly you realize if you weren’t a mess before you certainly are one now. The rope is damp with sweat, your mouth agape and drooling as he drives into you, your legs spread wide for him. You know you look the picture of debauchery. And you love it. Love the thought of him fucking you into oblivion, fucking you until you can’t move; can’t think of anything but him and how he feels inside of you.

Hanzo has abandoned his controlled, precise pace and is pumping into you hard and fast. Shallow thrusts that allow you to feel the scrape of the metal on your flesh all the clearer. You’re only vaguely aware that you’re begging again, for what you’re not sure, but a litany of ‘please’ and ‘Hanzo’ leaves your mouth in hot puffs of breath. You’ve discarded your entirely submissive persona. You can barely muster the forethought to call his name, there’s no way you can remember to call him ‘sir’ now. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t seem to care. You manage to open your eyes to peek up at him. His brow is furrowed; beads of sweat rolling down his temple and down his pecs. It’s un-fucking-fair that he looks the picture of sex appeal and beauty and you look a mess. Even his hair, which has mostly fallen from its updo, is perfectly mussed and falling about his face, framing his features in a dark curtain.

Suddenly he looks up at you and you lock eyes. Hanzo clenches his jaw and, maintaining eye contact, bucks his hips into you harder. A grunt of effort passes his lips and they curve back into something akin to a feral snarl. It’s unbelievably sexy. You moan, clutching at the silk bindings. His eyes dart down to the cloth about your wrists and his grip on your hips tightens. You know you’ll have ten perfect fingertip sized bruises there come morning. One hand leaves your hip and you open your eyes again to watch him as he slides it over the curve of your hip to toy with the silk rope, twirling it around his fingers. “So beautiful.” His voice is thick and desirous, his brown eyes blown wide with lust. “This shade of crimson looks lovely on you, kitten.” His thrusts have slowed, more like grinding presses against your walls; his hips flush against your ass.

Hanzo makes a show of gripping the bonds tightly and tugs, pulling you up to your feet. You gasp as the angle change buries him to the hilt. He releases the rope and wraps his left arm around you securely. His right hand comes up and wraps about your throat. No pressure, no grip, just there, holding you in place. It’s a possessive position, a possessive gesture, and you love it. Your head lolls to the side in total compliance and he purrs in satisfaction, beginning to pump into your heat again. The grip on your neck never tightens, and you don’t expect it to. The two of you have discussed breathplay as something you’d like to try, and have even done your research on it to make it as safe as possible, but you also decided one thing at a time to start with. For now, this possessive dominance is what he wants to explore and you are all too happy to oblige. The change in angle makes each thrust exquisitely deep, your walls tightening around him, begging for more. You’re close now and Hanzo is still infuriatingly in control of his pleasure. He always focuses more on your pleasure than his; wants you to come at least once before he even thinks about his own release.

It’s sweet and you love it, but sometimes you wish he would be more selfish. Take his pleasure from you and then worry about yours. The point is moot now, though. You’re too far gone, too close to the edge. You desperately want to touch, but your hands are still bound so you settle for scratching at his abdomen, your nails digging into the flexing muscles beneath them. He groans low in your ear and you mewl at the sound. He’s so controlled and quiet most of the time that when he moans you could swear the vibrations go straight to your cunt. Your panting breaths and pulsing core give you away. Hanzo leans his head down, scraping his teeth none-too-gently across the juncture between your neck and shoulder. “Come for me, kitten.” It’s a demand, not a request. Good girls don’t disobey orders. And you are a very good girl.

You come with a keening wail. His name falling from your lips like petals from a cherry tree, scattering to the wind. You’re suddenly very, very glad that each agent’s quarters were soundproof. Something about not wanting to know what people get up to in their spare time. It’s a ridiculous thought to have after just having had a mindblowing orgasm, but honestly it’s all your mind can process for a few seconds. Then you become aware of his hands running up and down your sides, his lips mouthing at the skin of your neck. He’s whispering something, “…such a good girl. My perfect kitten.” The words bring a stupid smile to your face. You had set out to earn his praise tonight, and you had.

Once your breathing has calmed Hanzo pulls away from you, his heat disappearing from your core leaves you frigid and shivering. You’re unsteady on your feet as his hands work at the knot in the rope. You’re thankful for that, your arms have felt cramped for quite some time, but you were far too into it to care. When the silk falls away you bring your arms to your front, wincing only slightly at the dull ache in your biceps. Hanzo presses a warm kiss to your shoulder and you jump at the ache there too. You glance down and see a crimson mark blossoming against your flesh. In your adrenaline and pleasure induced state you hadn’t even felt him bite you. It’s not surprising, Hanzo loves marking you, and you love bearing his mark. You feel remarkably less messy than you normally do after sex and you realize with a start that he still hasn’t come. That won’t do. You may have just had your release, but you’re more than eager to give him his.

You turn to face him fully for the first time in what feels like hours. He’s sweaty and flushed, his hair loose, falling down to his shoulders. He tosses the rope in the general vicinity of the wardrobe. You know it will have to be washed before it gets put away, the thing probably smells like sex now, but that is a problem for later. For now you bring your hands up and cup his face with a smile. His brow furrows when he sees the angry red marks on your wrists. “I’m fine, Hanzo,” you laugh softly. “All of this is what I wanted too.”

He seems to relax infinitesimally, turning his face to press a kiss to each wrist. You pull him in and kiss his lips. It feels like ages since you have felt his lips against yours. His lips are dry and rough. Good. Then they match yours. You part your lips for him willingly when his tongue prods at the seam. Moaning into the kiss you wrap your arms around his neck and tug gently, asking him to follow you down to the bed. He parts from your lips reluctantly, “We don’t have to. If you’re too tired…I don’t want to push you.” He says breathlessly, his thumb coming up to stroke your lower lip, the warmth and wetness of his kiss still lingering there.

You smile and press your forehead to his. “I appreciate your concern, love, but I’m fine. Truly.” You add when he gives you an incredulous look. It’s the truth. There’s a pleasant ache in your core, and your arms are a tad sore, true, but the desire you feel towards him is still very much present. It’s less of an all-consuming wildfire and more like slow-moving molten lava, setting fire to whatever it touches. And with your bodies flush together the lava was starting to set you ablaze. Hanzo doesn’t argue further; you’ve both stopped second-guessing each other. You both trust each other to tell the other the truth.

A warm heat pools in your gut as you both lean in, your lips meeting in a languid kiss. This time when you tug him down he follows own his own. He braces his weight on his left forearm and brings his right hand up to cup your cheek. You bend your knees, using them to hug his hips. The look in his eyes now is not lust, though surely there is a measure of that as well but, it is one of unconditional love. Wonder. Joy. You think for a moment you can see what he looked like when he was younger: full of hope and promise. It’s bittersweet and makes your heart ache all the more for all he has been through.

But you cannot change that, you know. You can’t love away his pain, but you can help to show him his pain is not all he is. You pull him in for another kiss, warm and safe and wanted. Sliding one hand up his neck to brush your thumb across his temple. He sighs into your mouth, his tongue lazily twining with yours as his hand skims down your side. Snaking your free hand down between the two of you, you take him in your hand. He’s still fully hard but you stroke him once, twice, just to touch, just to feel. You’ve become intimately familiar with the piercings in the past few months. You know to rub your thumb just next to the barbell on the ridge. Hanzo releases a hot breath, lips breaking from yours, parting in a pleasured sigh. His eyes focus and he looks down at you, his nose brushing yours. Guiding him to your heat feels like coming home. You know that’s stupid and cliché but you don’t care.

He’s beautiful, he’s perfectly imperfect and sweet and you love him. Love him so much that it feels like your heart might burst. These revelations aren’t new to you. You think of how much you love him, how beautiful he is every single day. But you tamper down your giddiness for him during the day when you have to focus on other things as well. It’s harder—no, impossible to ignore those thoughts now. It’s all you can think about. It’s repetitive, it’s maddening, but you love him.

You preen under his gaze, tilting your head back, your eyes closing halfway. His warm lips press against your throat. When he moves inside you now the thrusts are deep and slow, no mania, no frenzy overtaking you. Just your bodies moving in tandem, giving and taking. Wanting and wanted. You had thought that having him this way again after so much time had passed would feel different. And in a purely physical way it does. The added sensation of his piercings is new, and the stretch from taking him was a delicious reminder. But emotionally, you thought it might feel different, but it doesn’t. He still fills you perfectly, as if your bodies were made for each other. You still move effortlessly together as if no time has passed.

He thrusts deep into your heat, marking your neck, your shoulder, your chest with lips and teeth and tongue. You sigh and whimper and moan and he drinks in every sound you make. His lips leave your skin and he inhales sharply. Looking up at him you notice the tautness of the corded muscles of his neck, the flex of his jaw. He’s close. His eyes find yours and you pull his face to yours with both hands. You hold him there, his forehead pressed to yours, thumbs stroking his temples. He always liked that. It relieved tension, relaxed him. You murmur nonsense to him. Whatever you think of. How beautiful he is, how you will always be there for him, and always always how much you love him.

He comes with a choked sob of your name. The rush of warmth you feel inside you, both literally and metaphorically, is beyond satisfying. You hush him gently and kiss his lips, over and over, quick chaste kisses. Until he comes back to himself and captures your lips himself, his hand on your cheek flexing like he wants to hold you tighter. Like you’re something precious to him. It’s intimate and comfortable and safe.

Abruptly noticing he had brought you halfway to orgasm when he had come he reaches down and rubs at your clit. Though you had release earlier your clit was still fairly untouched tonight. Delightfully sensitive it doesn’t take him long to bring you to the edge again. He starts slow, his calloused fingertips circling your clit tantalizingly. As your breathing picks up he applies more pressure. Firm, sure strokes over the bundle of nerves. He’s still inside of you. His cock slightly hard from your contracting muscles and sweet reactions. He won’t ask you for more tonight, but a part of you hopes that this is not quite the end. Well, it’s the end for now. You bite down on your lip and look up at him when he croons your name. His eyes are gentle and loving and accepting. And you come. Waves of pleasure crash over you like the tide on the rocks of a stormy shore. But before you can be carried out to see Hanzo grounds you, pulls you back to him with steady hands and a sure heart.

His lips press to your forehead, your temples, the corner of your mouth. You kiss him. Soft and sweet and utterly true. Your body feels heavy with exhaustion. The pleasant ache in your core will last into tomorrow, you’re sure, and yet this night has been perfect. You wouldn’t change a single detail about it even if you could.

When your lips part you hum tiredly. Sated. Sleepy. Hanzo’s chuckle is full of warmth and love. “Don’t fall asleep.” He murmurs, kissing your face, everywhere but your lips.

You frown, your eyes closed. “Why not?” you pout childishly.

You can feel the smile on his lips when he brushes them over yours. “Because, my love. Bath first. Then sleep.” He says lightly, pecking your lips.

A bath does sound nice, you reason. But in the interest of teasing you open your eyes and sigh dramatically. “Yes, sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As per usual I'll add my notes from my Document here:  
> • There’s no good way to describe someone’s dick piercing, I tired  
> • Not particularly relevant to this chapter but I headcanon Hanzo as bisexual  
> • I wanted to make this as accurate as possible, which is why they haven’t had outright sex since winter, but you really should wait until genital piercings are fully healed to have sex  
> • The healing times are specifically  
> Tongue: 4-6 weeks  
> Nipple: (for this one I found varying sources but) anywhere between 3-12 months  
> Dydoe (coronal ridge): 2-3 months  
> Frenum (bars on the shaft): 4-6 months or longer  
> • Since they got together in December and this is roughly May they really should wait 1-2 more months before having sex but again, this is fiction so it’s not horribly important as long as I keep you informed/warned  
> • There was actual nipple discourse on my Discord server when I was writing this chapter. I took a vote on which nipple should be pierced, or both, or neither. The verdict was left, and the tie breaker chose left because “it’s a fic about him finding love so he went with his heart.” <-she is adorable and I would die for her, frankly.  
> • The safe word had very nearly been “sake!” because my beta suggested it and I laughed way too hard at it. I decided to go with colors though because I thought using sake would be too meme-y.  
> • Hana and Reader’s friendship is based off the fact that I want a friend who can purposefully argue with me over stupid shit and still be my friend.  
> • I am the queen of weird metaphors/similes  
> • This accidentally turned into reader having a praise kink, whoops. Though really lbr who wouldn’t love to be praised by Hanzo?  
> • Oh and this seems fairly obvious but in case you didn’t know: I don’t describe reader at all really, and this is intentional. I want everyone who reads this fic to be able to picture themselves in reader’s shoes (duh, it’s called a reader insert, Mina)besides it’s all about emotions, and specific feelings yaknow? What she looks like isn’t important to me, imagine her however you wish!  
> • I was tempted to make Hanzo’s nickname for reader “koneko” but as I am not Japanese I feel like that would be cringey of me so we’re just gonna go with “kitten” (which is still kinda cringey but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯)  
> • This got super fucking long tf  
> • Every fic I’ve written has been longer than the last what is this  
> • Got real fuckin poetic at the end there wtf. Me: tries to write kinky smut. Also Me: they end up in the missionary position slow fuckin while making eye contact. NAILED IT!  
> • Fuck I forgot to explicitly mention the neep nop piercing. OH well I guess that’s for next chapter then. Find out on the next episode of DRAGON. BALL. Z!
> 
> I'm actually proud of this chapter, tbh. There are a few lines in here I'm really happy about. Please leave a comment/kudos! Share with your friends, come talk to me on [tumblr](http://minakushi.tumblr.com/) I am a lonely writer.


	3. The Ghost of Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A romantic night under the fireworks? Unlikely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember back in chapter 1 when Reader talked about Hanzo kissing her last summer? Well in chapter 3 we're going to revisit that so here's a little explanation of last year's events!
> 
> This is sorta angsty, sorry! But I wanted to do a half chapter so that the angst would have a nice pay off when I post the next chapter.
> 
> You can find my tumblr [here!](http://minakushi.tumblr.com/)

You vividly remember last year when you had asked Hanzo to join you in viewing the fireworks festival the town near base was throwing. He had seemed reluctant at first, stating that he didn’t really like partaking in festivities. After you told him that if he decided to go with you that you didn’t have to be in the thick of things he gave his assent. You distinctly remember saying something like, “We’ll find a nice quiet rooftop…or as quiet as a place can be while explosives are being set off in the sky.” That almost got a chuckle out of him before he realized it and coughed to cover it up. It was cute and the fact that he actually found your lame humor funny only made you like him more.

If you think back on it you can remember exactly what happened when you find a secluded spot to watch the fireworks. High above the bustling crowds you could just barely make out colors and faces in the low lamp lit streets.

“See! I told you I’d find us a good spot!” you exclaimed, spreading your arms to indicate the rooftop you stood on. It was really the lower rooftop of a much taller building, probably some sort of apartment complex, but you had been looking for a roof just high enough to watch the fireworks not a sky scraper so you figured this would do. Turning to Hanzo with a bright grin you held out your hand. He looked at it with a purse of his lips so you lowered it quickly. The last thing you wanted was to make him uncomfortable. Lately it felt like he was purposely putting distance between the two of you, holding you at arm’s length. You couldn’t understand why. You had been somewhat close previously: talking before and after missions, training together, sometimes you even joined him in meditation. Something he found immensely amusing apparently. But now whenever you were around him he seemed almost reserved and tense.

When you noticed this you gave him his space, but that only hurt you in the process. So tonight was your way of getting to the bottom of things. You wanted to know if you had done something wrong, if there was something you should apologize for. Or if he just wanted you to back off. He shouldn’t have to force himself to spend time with you, so if he wanted more space you needed to know.

Before you could completely return your hand to your side he snatched it and held it maybe a little too roughly. You jumped in surprise but didn’t comment on his change of mind, or the sullen look on his face. Instead you smiled up at him and tugged him gently farther onto the roof. “It’s going to start soon, let’s sit.” You chirped happily.

He followed silently and sat when you did, just beside you. Both of you dangled your feet off the side of the building, but you swung yours enthusiastically. You had, conveniently, forgotten to let go of his hand in the process and he didn’t seem to mind so you hummed and entwined your fingers with his. And there it was, the split second tensing of his muscles that anyone could have missed if they weren’t looking for it. Discouraged, you started to pull your hand away but again at the last second he slipped his fingers through yours.

Being with Hanzo made you happy. Despite his sometimes gruff demeanor he was kind, willing to put himself in danger to save people he didn’t know and had never met. He could be cold and harsh and prideful. But there was also a warmth in him, an awkward kindness, and no one was a crueler judge of his character than he was. He was his own worst enemy, in a constant state of flux: hating himself while still believing he was he was better than most everyone else.

When he was feeling socially confident he made truly awful jokes that he found hilarious. He laughed at his own bad jokes and yet still kept making them even when everyone around him groaned in unison. Except you, and often Genji, they were so bad you couldn’t help but laugh. And you liked the twinkle of pride in his eyes every time you did. You liked a lot of things about him. Like the way he defended his comrades with his life despite saying he didn’t feel like he fit in. Like the way he tried so hard to always look cool but often ended up looking like a dork. Like the way the corners of his eyes crinkled when he showed a rare smile or laughed quietly.

It was safe to say you were on the verge of falling in love with him. And you had no idea if he felt the same. Certainly he seemed to enjoy your company more than most in Overwatch, but whether his feelings towards you were romantic or platonic was a mystery. You looked down at your entwined hands and felt a measure of fear. What if he didn’t feel the same way for you? What would you do then? Of course you would respect his feelings and back off, hoping to remain friends, but could you lock up your own feelings? Could you pretend that you didn’t want to spend every waking hour with him? If it meant keeping him in your life, in any small way, you were willing to. You wanted him to love you, but if he didn’t you would rather live with unrequited feelings than lose him altogether.

You looked up and noticed with a start that Hanzo’s eyes were already on you. The look he was giving you was intense and he didn’t look away. He watched you like he was trying desperately to understand you, like if he stared at you long enough he could read your mind, unravel your heart and see into your soul. It made your heart skip a beat; you couldn’t look away from him, caught in his gaze. There was a slight furrow to his brow, as if he was confused. Unable to bear the silence any longer you opened your mouth to speak, but jumped instead when a loud boom sounded overhead. Your head snapped up and to the side, heart pounding as you watched the burst of color fizzle out and a new one take its place.

The spell broken Hanzo pulled his hand from yours and dragged them both down his face, lifting his leg and placing one foot flat on the ground. He leaned his forehead on his raised knee and sighed. At a loss for what to say or do you looked up and blankly watched the fireworks. One after another the flowers of light bloomed in the night sky. Below you people cheered and stared in open wonder at the beauty unfolding before them, but you couldn’t focus on any of it. What had that look meant? And why did it feel like it meant something important? You were sure you weren’t reading too much into it, there was something on his mind as well. The only way you would ever know was if you asked. Gathering your courage you spoke up, “Hanzo—“

“Forgive me, I have to go.” He spoke over you quickly, standing up and turning away from you. He intended to leave you there, to confuse you further and just leave? No, this had to be solved tonight. You couldn’t take another second of tense, stilted conversation when before it had been so easy just to talk to him, to laugh at his corny jokes.

Suddenly, all your carefully laid plans were forgotten. Your intent to talk to him calmly, to be civil and have a peaceful conversation scattered to the wind, like the dying tails of the fireworks, still booming above you. Watching him walk away filled you with dread and fear and anger. You couldn’t have stopped the words that left your mouth even if you had wanted to. “What are you so afraid of?!” you screamed at him, your voice nearly lost beneath the blast of the fireworks. Your breath was short, your heart pounding in your chest, your words choking you, spilling from your lips unbidden. “Why do you insist on running from anything that could possibly make you happy?” You bit back a sob. Stupid, why were you so close to crying, this wasn’t a big deal. Except it was. It felt like if you didn’t clear the air here it would suffocate you, clog your lungs with words unsaid and feelings unshared. You saw Hanzo clench his fists and you gulped in air, “Hanzo, I—“

“Don’t!” he hissed suddenly, you snapped your jaw shut, surprised at his reaction. “Don’t…” he whispered it this time, so soft you would not have caught it if there hadn’t been a break in the explosions in the sky. Changing color, changing shape. His shoulders held a tenseness unparalleled by any you had seen thus far. “You should not have these feelings for me.” His voice betrayed his firm assertion, a miniscule crack working its way in. “Nor I you.” His words were whisper-soft and yet resounded in your ears like a clap of thunder.

You flinched back as if you had been struck. He knew? All this time he knew and he did nothing about it? Wait, did that mean that he felt the same for you as you did for him? How long? Why did he not say anything? A thousand questions flew through your mind, each one causing more confusion than the last. Confusion morphed right back into anger. Who was he to tell you how you should feel for him? You took a step towards him. If you could have seen yourself you would have realized just how much your stance resembled fighting posture. “Whether I should or should not is irrelevant! I—”

He cut you off again, snapping harshly, “I do not want your pity!” he spit the last word, his knuckles white from clenching his fists so hard.

That stopped you in your tracks, your anger vanishing in an instant. “You think I pity you?” you whispered, your heart breaking with the realization.

“I—“ he stopped, taking a deep breath. “I do not deserve your love.” He murmured his voice breaking. Broken. That’s what he thought he was. Undeserving of love or redemption but desperately seeking and wanting both.

“You’re wrong.” You breathed. “You’re so wrong.” You took another step towards him, reaching out to touch him, to put your hand on his shoulder, his arm, anything. But you stopped yourself halfway, retracting your hand and holding it to your chest as if you were afraid it would rebelliously try to touch what it cannot have. “I could give you…” your voice was too soft, unable to be heard over the whistle and boom of the festivities. Clearing your throat and wetting your lips you tried again, “I could give you a thousand reasons why you do deserve love. I could tell you that it’s the people that say they don’t deserve love that often need it the most.” You stopped, watching as Hanzo shook his head.

“You misunderstand me.” He looked back at you over his shoulder and you could see the anguish in his eyes as he said, “I do not deserve your love.” The words were choked, as if he had been thinking them for so long and had only just now allowed himself to say them out loud.

It hurt to hear his pain so clear in his voice, and it hurt to know that he truly believed that. He truly believed that he was undeserving of your love specifically. Why, because it was more than platonic? Objectively you knew that part of it was fear; fear of opening your heart to someone, fear of letting someone in close enough to hurt you. You knew. You felt the same way. You were terrified of letting him see all of your broken parts, terrified that he would be disgusted and turn you away. It was a fear you’d had all your life, a fear you knew many people had. But you had never felt for anyone what you felt for Hanzo. It both magnified and outweighed your fear. But you knew that if you let your fear rule you that you could lose the one person who ever really meant anything to you, all before you had ever really had them. Now you let yourself reach out to him, putting your hand lightly on his arm.

The moment you touched him it was as if a switch had been flipped. In an instant he turned, a distressed groan leaving his lips as he gripped your upper arms and crushed your mouth with his. You squeaked in surprise and blinked several times to make sure that what you were seeing was real. Hanzo’s brow was furrowed, almost as if he were in pain. It hurt to see him so confused when this was something you knew you wanted. But if he was making the decision to do this now you would make damn sure he knew that you were ready to go all in. Closing your eyes you returned his kiss in full force.

He led you backwards, until your back hit the stone wall of the building adjacent to the one you stood on. You gasped into his mouth as his hands moved from your arms to your hips, pressing you against the wall. It sounded cliché even to you but he really did kiss like he fought. Rough, quick strikes. That analogy made you wary. You weren’t sure if he was kissing you because you were fighting and emotions were running high, or if he wanted to shut you up, or if he truly meant it. It didn’t feel like the third option. It felt more like he needed something, anything to make him feel wanted and deserving. He growled low in his chest and pressed against you harder, kissing you deeper. Your lungs screamed for air, but he was relentless, taking your lips in another bruising kiss when you broke away to gulp in air.

There was a sense of dread in that kiss, those many kisses, but you couldn’t exactly pinpoint it. Something wasn’t right, too many things weren’t right. He was confused, he was angry. At you, at the world, at himself. He was trying desperately to feel what you felt for him, that he was worthy, that he was deserving. And at the same time he was trying to show you why he wasn’t. Wanting you to still feel the same for him, but expecting you to push him away and tell him you had changed your mind. It was the same fear you had had just moments before, mirrored back to you in the kiss of the very same man you had felt that fear for.

Still, you fought back against his fear and doubt and stubbornly pushed aside your own. You knew deep down that this was probably a bad idea, that there was no way this could end well, but you refused to give in. You cared for him and if he was hurting so were you. But more than that you wanted desperately to prove yourself wrong. You hoped against hope that somehow magically he would be fine when he pulled away; that he would smile and realize he was worthy after all. Though you knew that was what you wanted you inwardly cursed yourself for being an idealistic fool. Tears of frustration gathered at the corners of your eyes but you obstinately refused to let them fall, forcing them back. To distract yourself from the horrible sinking feeling you parted your lips for him, gripping him tighter when he thrust his tongue into your mouth.

For one blissful moment he eased up, slowing the kiss to something that almost resembled tenderness. But it was gone before you really had a chance to recognize it. He raised one hand to your face and buried his fingers in your hair. The grip of his other hand on your hip was nearly bruising, in stark contrast to the way his thumb stroked your cheekbone. His fingers tightened in your hair and he pulled away from your lips, trailing his own down your jawline to the expanse of your throat. You gasped for air, dizzy from both his kiss and the lack of oxygen. Your head swam, your pulse thundering in your ears. His lips rested just above the spot on the side of your neck where your blood pounded in your veins. At first he only mouthed lightly at the spot, but the softness was gone quickly, replaced by hungry teeth and lips sucking and nipping at your skin. You released a shaky moan, your hands trembling where they lay against his chest.

He was claiming you, marking you, all while knowing you were something, someone he would not, could not allow himself to have. From the moment his lips touched yours the entire world had faded away. You could no longer hear the boom of the fireworks. You could not see the explosions of color or the flashes of light behind your closed eyelids. You could not hear the chattering and cheering of the people below as they talked, laughed and enjoyed themselves at a festival that you couldn’t remember the name of to save your life. This was so far from what you had expected to happen tonight. In fact, you had never expected Hanzo to let go, if only for a moment, and just go after what he wanted. He did that with most other things, but when it came to matters of the heart he generally shied away from making his feelings known. That worried you, too; this was not how he normally acted. Would he regret this decision as soon as the adrenaline faded? Was he already regretting it?

Your heart and your mind warred with one another. Your mind told you that this was a very, very bad idea; that it could only lead to more heartache. And your foolish traitorous heart told your mind to shut up and revel in being wanted by the one person who meant the world to you. You shut them both out, trying fruitlessly to ignore the fact that they were both right. You hated it. You loved it. You bit your lip to hide a whimper, whether it was from pleasure or despair not even you were sure. The sound seemed to snap Hanzo out of whatever frenzy he was in. His lips slowed on your throat and he froze, his whole body going rigid, he was even holding his breath. You furrowed your brow in confusion. Unable to see his face you hesitantly croaked, “H-Hanzo…?”

Immediately he released you, his fingers pulling from your hair so fast you were surprised he hadn’t yanked some out in the process. Even in the dark you could see the white of his wide eyes, the rapid rise and fall of his chest. Fear. That’s what you could read in his expression, in his body language. It was fear so potent it permeated the air, leaving it thick and oppressively heavy. You didn’t know what he was afraid of, himself or you, all you knew was that if you didn’t do something or say something he would likely give himself a panic attack. His breathing was loud, much louder than it should be for someone who was trained in stealth. Forgetting your own confusion and sudden loneliness you put your hands out, palm up to try to calm him down. You opened your mouth to try and talk him down, to use your voice to bring him back to himself, but before you could he looked away from you, his sweaty brow knitted fitfully. “I…” he stopped, shaking his head violently. “I must go.” He said quickly, turning away from you and starting to walk away.

“H-Hanzo, wait!” you called out, though you weren’t sure what for. All you knew was that if he walked away now it would shatter whatever fragile thing lay between the two of you, and that fear was stronger than any other.

He flinched when you called his name, already several steps away from you, heading towards the door to the roof. Forcing his head to the side slowly he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, as if it hurt to look at you. That look made it feel like you’d been stabbed in the heart with an icicle. “Forgive me.” His brow furrowed further, creating crinkles on his forehead that in any other situation you might have found cute. “I shouldn’t have…I never meant to…” he seemed unable to find the right words, starting and stopping halfway through a coherent sentence to change direction. “I have to go.” He finally settled on a simple sentence, but one that drove the icicle farther into your heart.

You gave up. Or more accurately there was nothing you could have said that would have made him stay. It wasn’t the time. It wasn’t the place. Or maybe you weren’t even the one. Whatever it was you knew calling out to him again would only push him farther away. Still, you couldn’t keep yourself from saying, “If you…” you shook your head. No, that wasn’t right. Hanzo had stopped in his tracks the second you started to speak, he stood there, like a deer frozen in headlights. Lifting your gaze to his back you set your jaw and tried to keep your voice from wavering. “I won’t give up. Not on you.” You clenched your fists at your sides, putting as much conviction into your voice as you could muster.

His shoulders twitched as if your words caused a physical itch. He nodded once, curt and succinct, and you knew he understood. The words you wanted so desperately to add went unsaid, though they clawed angrily at your throat, demanding to be set free. You resolutely pushed them down, swallowing thickly for good measure. Hanzo faced forward again and started walking. With the door open and his hand gripping the handle he spoke one last time, without turning towards you. “I am sorry.” He whispered, so quiet you almost hadn’t heard. And with that he was gone. The door slamming shut was louder than all of the fireworks combined. You jumped and squeezed your eyes shut.

Stupid girl, don’t start crying. Don’t start crying. You repeated these words to yourself over and over, your own personal mantra. But it was no use. When you opened your eyes your vision was blurry with tears and you choked back a sob. You stumbled backwards into the wall and crossed your arms over your stomach. With him gone you could feel just how cold the night had become. Where once you could feel the heat of his skin only a desolate chill remained. You felt bereft and forlorn, hugging yourself tighter to keep the illusion of warmth. Biting your lip to stifle your sobs you raised your eyes to the skies where colorful explosions of light still rained. But it was all dull and empty now. You could no longer hear the deafening booms, or the happy chattering of the people below. You watched without seeing, listened without hearing. The world was empty and colorless tonight. Just like you.

You stayed on that rooftop for what must have been hours, long after the last firework had been shot and the lights in the streets had grown dim. You let the summer night’s chill seep into your bones, making your movements stiff and stilted when you attempted to pick yourself up off of the ground. You walked slowly through the empty streets in the vague direction of base. Your feet were sluggish, dragging with every step, but your eyes were blessedly dry. Or maybe cursedly dry. Whether it was good or not you could not cry anymore, you had no more tears to shed. Instead you felt shell shocked, unable to feel or process what was happening around you or to you. You somehow managed to amble through the city without incident, making it back to base just as the moon was glowing brightly directly overhead. You didn’t bother to look up and marvel at its beauty tonight, it would have been lost on you anyway. Mulishly keeping your head down you headed for your cramped quarters. Thankfully there was no one awake and wandering the hallways at this hour. When you got to your room you stood in front of your bed for a moment, before collapsing all at once into it.

It wasn’t the warmth that you craved but you managed to convince yourself it was an acceptable surrogate. Reaching up you traced your fingertips over the mark Hanzo had left on your neck. You could feel the lingering heat there. You told yourself it was just from the inflamed skin, but still your heart refuted that, certain that at least some of it was from the heat of his mouth. Exhausted to your very bones you didn’t even bother to remove your clothes properly. Kicking off your boots over the side of the bed you maneuvered yourself under the covers and buried your face into the pillow. And if there were wet spots left there you would swear you didn’t know where they had come from.

_I will wait for you. Come back to me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's taking me so long to write chapter 3 because (as you might have guessed) it's a parallel to the first time Reader and Hanzo kissed and I needed to explain how that happened before I could tell you how it *should* have gone.
> 
> Anyways I already have some of chapter 3 done, I just need to add some more stuff.
> 
> P.S. I don't actually have a set updating schedule, I just post whenever I get chapters done so if I don't post for a bit it's not because I've abandoned this work, I'm just a really slow writer.
> 
> Please leave a comment/kudos if you enjoyed!


	4. Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Hanzo asks you for a do-over of a night that broke your heart you jump at the chance to change your bad memories into good ones.

Summer rains have made days like this one almost impossible. There was not a cloud in the sky, the dying light of the sun casting a warm orange glow over the world. A warm breeze carried the scent of the ocean to your nose. Closing your eyes you inhaled deeply and smiled. The Overwatch base where you were currently stationed was perched on a cliff, hidden away behind a bustling city rife with tourists. Life and laughter could be heard from the bluff where you sat now. Not literally, mind you, the people would have to be screaming for you to hear them from up here. Thankfully they weren’t.

You didn’t know what it was about the summer months that made everyone want to have a ceasefire but there had been no suspicious activity in days. It was almost like everyone, good and bad, was taking a vacation. The thought made you snort in laughter. Imagine: guys all dressed in black, still looking so sinister, but reclining on a beach somewhere with a fruity drink in hand. It was amusing to think of, and it helped to normalize your opponents. People and omnics weren’t one dimensional. They had feelings, desires, hopes and dreams. Wait, do omnics dream? Oh, yeah, they do, you distinctly remembered Zenyatta saying something about dreaming he was a butterfly…but that was also a reference to a quote so…you’d have to remember to ask.

At any rate, while you were enjoying the rare peace and quiet, it was suspicious to say the least. This city was a strategic goldmine. There were thousands upon thousands of tourists here, even despite the danger rising exponentially in the world. The city’s political leaders were half corrupt, half too sincere to be believed right away. Though, it was the same everywhere you supposed. The rich prospered and thrived, but at the cost of the poor, the downtrodden and the ill. You hated it. More than anything. Which is part of the reason you joined Overwatch in the first place. They didn’t really dabble in politics, and that was something you were thankful for. But they did do their best to help people in need.

All of these thoughts were concerns for another time, however. Right now you were waiting for the moon to rise, watching the sun sink down and meet the waves on the horizon. It was calming. It was beautiful. If you looked down, passed where your feet dangled, you could see the waves crashing against the rocks at the foot of the cliff. Gulls flew overhead and called out to each other, the sunset casting great shadows from their wings. Peace was not so easily found these days. You would take this time and treasure it.

Not only because of the peace, but because tonight, after the sun has set, the city below the cliffs would set off fireworks. In this city they never seemed to need a reason to celebrate. The very same people who were taken advantage of by their government always happy, always lively. At least with each other, they celebrated what little they did have and shared it with each other. Celebrating the simple yet challenging act of being alive. A little more than one year ago today was the start of everything for you. A little more than one year ago today was the first time Hanzo kissed you. Looking back now, you knew it was for the best that things hadn’t gone farther that night. Neither of you had really been in the right place for it then. Now, though, stationed in a different city, half a world away, near a similar beach, you could recreate a little of the magic, as it were.

This year things would be different. For starters, he wouldn’t run from you after kissing you…hopefully. No, you knew he wouldn’t. You trusted him completely. On top of that, this time it was Hanzo that had asked you to come with him. Last year you had asked him to go and only after much prodding and no less than three separate occasions of batting your eyelashes he had relented. You reflected on the one major difference between last year and this year: you were happy. And you knew you would stay that way. You were in love with Hanzo and he was in love with you, whereas last year you hadn’t been sure if it was a lasting love or a type of infatuation and he hadn’t been sure of anything really.

You had cried yourself to sleep that night, tired and confused, but now every night you fell asleep in the warm circle of his arms and usually woke the same way. You spent your days on training, briefings and missions but whereas it had been horribly tedious before you felt a measure of excitement for it now. Well, except for the briefings, those were still dreadfully dull. Training had become something of a game for you. Since Hanzo was, for lack of a better term, truly jacked and a great deal physically stronger than you he had helped you to start working on your own muscles. And it worked, your arms and legs were a great deal more toned now. You liked to joke that your thighs actually got a little bigger but every time you mentioned it he would shrug and say that he still rather enjoyed having them wrapped around his head. Once he even said, completely deadpan, that if you crushed his head with your thighs he would die a happy man.

The game, however, was that if you managed to best him in any training scenario he would get this adorably flustered look on his face. Not because he was upset about losing, but because when you did beat him in a sparring match you usually ended up on top of him, straddling him. Both of you sweaty and panting and a triumphant grin on your face. The first time it happened the two of you had had to rush back to your room. And every subsequent time left his eyes dark with want and yet shining with pride. You were certainly no pushover before but after several months under his tutelage you could hold your own fairly well against most opponents.

Missions these days were also slightly different, in that at first Hanzo did everything in his power to keep you from even the slightest bit of danger. It wasn’t as if he was doing it because he thought you couldn’t take care of yourself, but it was more of an unconscious decision based on him never wanting to lose someone he cared about again. After you pointed out to him that he was potentially putting himself, the mission and the team at risk every time he left his post to come to your rescue he apologized and promised to tone down the heroics. Though at the look of despondency on his face you told him he was still your hero to which some people gagged and others ‘aww’d.’

Needless to say your relationship had thus far had been filled with happiness and warmth. That isn’t to say the two of you didn’t fight every now and then, but resolving to never leaving an argument unfinished made it so that they never lasted long. Plus they usually ended in pretty great make-up sex. So here you sat, feeling perfectly content and waiting for the archer to come and get you. Since he had asked you out this time he was the one to choose the viewing spot. You anxiously watched the sun sink below the waves, only vaguely taking in the beauty of the ocean cast in a purplish orange hue. When you could see only the crown of the sun, making the waves sparkle like starlight you heard footsteps behind you.

You couldn’t help the smirk that came to your face then. If you could hear him he was making a conscious effort not to scare the living daylights out of you. That was the thing about dating an actual literal ninja: he had the tendency to start completely normal conversations with you when you hadn’t even known he was there. It had happened more than once. Where he would start talking out of nowhere and you would scream much louder than was strictly necessary. He thought it was hilarious and sometimes did it on purpose only to act like you were the weird one for screaming when he talked to you. “Not going to sneak up on me today?” you ask, turning your head to look at him over your shoulder.

Hanzo grins, holding his hand out to you to help you up. “I figure I should be on my best behavior tonight. Does this count as an anniversary? That’s not exactly conventional though, is it?” He asks, idly as he hauls you up to your feet.

Dusting your butt off you snorted, “Nothing about our relationship has been conventional anyway, why start now?” you shot back with a smirk.

His eyes focused on you again and he smiles softly, reaching up to brush your bangs off of your forehead without letting go of your hand. “I know you said you forgive me for last year, but…” he trails off tugging you closer by the hand until you fall against his chest with a squeak. Pressing his forehead to yours he smiles, “will you allow me to make it up to you tonight?” he asks sweetly, bumping your nose with his.

A slow devilish smile spreads across your face. “That highly depends, lover. How will tonight end?” you inquire innocently enough, batting your eyelashes for good measure.

Hanzo chuckles warmly, tilting his head and nipping playfully at your bottom lip. “Oh I have everything planned, my love. First there’s the fireworks.” He starts, kissing your bottom lip as if in apology. “Then there’s likely to be handholding.” He murmurs, slipping both arms around your waist and holding you flush against his chest. “Then kissing.” His lips move down your jawline slowly and you hum in both appreciation and acknowledgement closing your eyes contentedly. “And to finish off the night I plan to be buried deep inside you.” His voice is whisper soft and intentionally desirous as he nips at your earlobe and tightens his grip on you.

You have to bite your lip to stifle a moan. If he’s already this frisky now you wonder how you’ll survive until after the fireworks. “Sounds like quite the plan.” You croak hoarsely. You can hear him snicker in your ear as you pull away and clear your throat. “We’d best get started then.” The sun has completely set now, just the barest hint of pink on the skyline. The fireworks will start once it’s fully dark and the two of you have yet to find a spot.

Reluctantly Hanzo pulls away from you and picks up your hand in exchange. After placing a gentle kiss on your temple he tugs you towards the city. It isn’t that far a walk really and walking gives the two of you more time to spend together just taking in the sights around you. Though right about now you’re regretting your decision to forgo a jacket. You had thought that standing next to the water would be a good test of temperature for when night falls, but as you shiver slightly you start to think maybe that had been a foolish assumption. Of course Hanzo notices the tremor rolling across your shoulders and disentangles his hand from yours to remove his jacket. “Oh. You don’t have to. I’m fine really, it’s my own fault for not bringing a jacket.” You try to wave him off but he is having none of it.

Draping the garment around your shoulders he leans in close to whisper in your ear, “Nonsense. Is this not what two people in a relationship do?” pecking your cheek he steps back and grabs your hand again. You’ve noticed that he’s become much more comfortable with public displays of affection recently, holding your hand around base, kissing you in full view of anyone and everyone. It warms your heart to see him so happy just to show even a little of his love for you without care of who sees. Out of the corner of your eye you see him smirk and you narrow your eyes in suspicion. “Besides, you’re always stealing my clothes anyway.” He points out with barely concealed laughter, his gaze shifting to the side to see your reaction.

You roll your eyes dramatically at him, “I don’t steal, I borrow.” You retort obstinately. He makes a small sarcastic ‘ahh’ sound of understanding. “It makes me happy, you know? Like having a little piece of you even if you’re not there with me.” You shrug, flushing slightly. You look away from him and pout sullenly. A part of you knew he was joking but still there was a voice inside your head that told you that it truly annoyed him.

Suddenly Hanzo stops and steps in front of you. He does it so quickly that you nearly bump nose first into his chest. Before you can ask him what’s going on he puts two fingers underneath your chin and tilts your head up so you’re looking directly into his warm brown eyes. “If that’s the case you are welcome to borrow anything of mine anytime you wish.” He says softly, sliding his hand to cup your jaw, stroking it lightly with his thumb. You practically melt into his touch and smile up at him sheepishly. “As long as I’m allowed to do the same.” He adds, his lips quirking up at the corners.

All of your shyness leaves you in an instant and you can’t help but laugh, “Of course. It’s only fair. What’s mine is yours, love.” You smile brightly. He leans forward and presses a chaste kiss to your lips. Hanzo had always had a way of knowing when you overthink things, and a way of calming your fears. He knows what it’s like to have a traitorous mind and he knows that sometimes you need someone to point out the obvious because it doesn’t seem obvious to you.

Seeing you relax and smile puts him at ease and he gives you a gentle look before resuming the walk down to the city. When you make it to the edge the streetlights are already on but dimly so that the fireworks will be more vibrant. All along the streets there are stalls open with delicious smells wafting from them. Other stalls are selling sparklers and glow sticks, various other little items that might constitute as a souvenir. You never really liked crowds much but there’s something about the atmosphere of a festival or any sort of celebration that just seeps into your bones and makes you feel light as a feather.

Your head swivels this way and that as Hanzo drags you along. Every once in a while he’ll glance back at you to see you looking around in childlike wonder. It brings a smile to his face that fully accentuates just how happy he is with you. It’s taken you far too long to realize it but you don’t have to be extraordinary to be loved. Because the people who really love you will see you as extraordinary anyway. Being with Hanzo makes you feel like maybe you are something special. Seeing yourself as he sees you makes you realize that you’ve been looking at yourself through a broken mirror and for that you are eternally grateful. 

The way he doesn’t slow his pace or even look around suggests he knows exactly where he’s going and the thought makes you giggle. “Did you scout out a place beforehand?” you ask with no small amount of amusement in your voice.

Hanzo flashes a grin at you over his shoulder, “I had to make sure everything was perfect for tonight.” He winks. Actually winks. And you stop in your tracks. That one little gesture, just a twitch of his eye really, has your heartbeat pounding in your ears and your face on fire. Holy shit it’s a good thing he didn’t have any game when the two of you first met otherwise you would’ve had a heart attack by now. He notices you’ve stopped when there’s resistance on his hand. Turning to look at you he tilts his head questioningly, “Everything alright?” his voice is full of concern. He honest to god has no clue what he does to you.

Willing your blush away and hoping that it’s dark enough to cover it you nod enthusiastically, “Yeah, of course. Let’s go!” you say cheerfully starting to walk ahead and tug him along. He follows you willingly but it only takes you a few seconds to realize, “I…don’t actually know where we’re going. Maybe you should lead.” You mumble, flushing even darker and inwardly cursing yourself.

Hanzo laughs good-naturedly and takes the lead again, dropping a quick peck on your cheek as he moves passed you. You follow along quietly this time, focusing on the warmth of his hand and the way he squeezes yours gently each time he looks back at you. Which is often. He looks like an excited puppy, like he can’t wait to show you the spot he found. His mood is infectious and soon you find yourself grinning with him, all signs of embarrassment gone. He leads you past the stalls and into an alleyway beside a building with a considerably shorter roof than the other surrounding ones.

You give him an incredulous look but he just smiles and drops your hand. He scales the wall easily, in two practiced leaps. You want to glare at him for showing off but honestly it’s really just impressive. Then he bends down and extends his hand with a cocksure grin and a challenging raise of his brows. You were no quitter and you were also ninety percent sure he was going to be doing all the work lifting you anyway. So you slip your arms through the jacket draped about your shoulders and reaching up you grab onto his hand. As expected you don’t even have to do anything, he hauls you up onto the roof with him. You take a moment to gawk at the muscles in his arm flexing as he lifts you. And then the spell is broken because at the last second he leans back too fast and you fall onto his chest, all the air leaving you in a surprised squeak.

Hanzo starts to shake under you, his shoulders trembling. You look up at him with wide eyes, thinking you’ve hurt him by falling onto him with your full weight. You start to apologize profusely and get up but before you can you realize, “Are you laughing?” you ask in a disbelieving tone.

His shoulders shake even more with full-bodied laughter as he tilts his head back against the ground and laughs freely into the night. The sound of it is so lovely you forget to pretend to be upset about him teasing you. His eyes are closed, crinkling at the corners and he brings his hand to his mouth to attempt to stifle his laughter. “Forgive me. I couldn’t help it.” He snorts, looking down at you and biting his lip to ward off his smile, attempting to look apologetic. It doesn’t work. But you aren’t really angry anyway. Propping yourself up with your elbow on his chest you raise an eyebrow at him, though you don’t even try to hide your own amusement. He reaches up and brushes the backs of his fingers across your cheekbone. “You’re just far too adorable when you’re surprised.” He explains, a warm smile replacing his teasing one.

You pout sullenly but move to get off of him all the same. “You’re just too good at catching me off guard like that.” You mumble, a light blush dusting your cheeks. “Teaching you to flirt was the worst idea ever, you’re too powerful now.” You say more to yourself than to him as you brush off your already clean knees just to avoid looking him in the eye. You had never in your life been shy, not about going after what you wanted and definitely not about attractive people flirting with you. You suppose you should’ve known it would be different with someone you’re actually in love with but you were sorely unprepared for the heart palpitations that came with Hanzo’s cocky smirk and a few suggestive words.

“You didn’t teach me how to flirt. I always knew how. I was just taught not to unless it was strictly for my benefit.” He said plainly as he sat up and nimbly got to his feet. As if what he just said wasn’t heartbreaking. You winced inwardly but tried not to show it on your face. You distinctly remember him telling you last year, yelling at you would be more accurate, that he didn’t want your pity. It wasn’t pity, but there was a chance he could take it that way so you resolved to not bringing that up. He must have noticed either your silence or the look on your face because he laughed and grabbed your hand. “You did, however, teach me that it’s okay to flirt for no other reason than I want to. And I do, want to, that is.” He said softly, bringing your hand to his lips and ghosting your knuckles across them.

You knew he was trying to cheer you up, to bring you out of whatever stupor his comment had put you in but that statement mixed with the completely serious look on his face was too much. A snicker escapes you before you can stop it and you cover your mouth with your free hand. “I’m sorry. I get what you’re trying to say, I’m just not used to you flirting so openly with me. It’s going to take some getting used to.” You explain, schooling your expression into a serious one to match his.

His smirk is back as he tugs you forward until you collide with his chest, your free hand planted firmly over his heart and his sliding around your waist. You notice idly that he’s very physically affectionate these days. That’s something you’re glad for, that he’s comfortable enough with you now that he can pull you close like this without even caring if anyone sees. Not that they would right now anyway, what with the two of you secluded on this empty rooftop. “Maybe I should do it more often then. Purely so you can get used to it, of course.” He hums, leaning forward and brushing your nose with his.

You watch the lights dance in his eyes and feel a slow smile spread across your face. “Of course. No ulterior motives. That would be foolish.” You intone gravely, nodding your head lightly and shifting to stand on the tips of your toes.

“Of course.” He repeats. His lips are warm when they meet yours, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. Closing your eyes you hum contentedly into the kiss. It’s chaste but exactly what you wanted. He slips his fingers deliberately between yours, slowly, as if to say that he would never let go. Cheesy and cliché and totally utterly perfect. That was what your relationship had been thus far: half extraordinarily predictable romantic gestures and half completely unexpected ones in situations you couldn’t have dreamed up if you tried. Like tonight for example, kissing on a rooftop in the slightly chilly summer night air just before going to see fireworks. And then there were times when the two of you would be on a mission in extremely life threatening situations and one of you would randomly say ‘I love you.’ Your relationship was, in fact, a contradiction. Nothing about it made sense and yet it was perfect. The two of you really should never have even met, but you did and every moment you spend with him is better than the last.

Reluctantly you pull away, if only slightly, your lips still brushing his when you speak, “We’re going to miss the fireworks if we stand here all night.” You smile, sliding your free hand up to cup his cheek.

He turns his head and kisses your palm lightly. “A fair point. Though I’m more than happy to stay here and kiss you all night that would sort of defeat the purpose of planning all of this, wouldn’t it?” he sighs and pulls his arm from around you.

Hanzo walks you to the other side of the little roof you’re standing on and looks up expectantly at the higher rooftop above you. You give him a deadpan look, “Another rooftop? Really? Is that an archer thing?” you ask with a dramatic roll of your eyes. He chuckles quietly and lets go of your hand for a moment, cupping both of his and bending his knees. You raise an eyebrow at him, “Why the change in tactics?” you ask curiously. He shrugs and wiggles his fingers impatiently. Sighing, you put one hand on his shoulder to steady yourself as you lift your foot up. Again, he easily hoists you up until you can pop yourself up onto the roof. You climb to your feet just as he hauls himself up to meet you. Brushing the dust off of your stomach you don’t pay attention to what Hanzo is doing until you feel a sharp smack to your ass. Your immediate reaction is to yelp and cover yourself with both hands. Then you slowly turn to Hanzo with a wide eyed look. The man is very obviously trying to fight off laughter. “Did you really just smack my ass?” you ask completely baffled, and then something occurs to you, “Wait, is that the reason you wanted me to go up first?”

Now he bursts out into full-blown laughter, throwing his head back. “Guilty.” He snickers, coming up behind you with playfully grabby hands. You shout and run from him, out onto the open rooftop.

Hanzo stops suddenly and drops into a stance. Oh shit. “No…” you warn slowly, as one might a child or a disobedient pet. “Hanzo, no!” you yelp as he leaps at you with a grin. As much as you’d like to keep the stern pretense up, laughter bubbles up in your chest as you do your best to dodge and avoid his grasp.

The rooftop is small, with a walkway leading into another building directly across from where you climbed up. If you weren’t too busy being chased by your boyfriend you might wonder why he chose to have the two of you climb up and not just take the stairs inside the building. You giggle as you dip under his arms when he lashes them out to grab you. He’s laughing too, and you have to keep reminding yourself not to get distracted by it. You try to rush passed him all at once, but you’re just a touch too slow and he locks both arms around your waist firmly, trapping both of your arms under his. “Gotcha.” He whispers in your ear, squeezing you lightly for emphasis.

“You did. You win, I surrender.” You say slightly out of breath from laughter. His puff of laughter is warm against your ear as he lays his chin on your shoulder. You feel safe here in his arms, wrapped in the gentle embrace of the one you love. He doesn’t loosen his grip on you and you huff a laugh quietly, “Are you going to let me go anytime soon?” you ask your captor.

He hums thoughtfully, “I don’t think so. I have yet to collect my spoils of war.” He murmurs, turning his face to nuzzle the side of your neck, his lips pressing lightly there. You squirm in his grasp, giggling as his beard tickles your sensitive flesh. He smiles and holds you tighter, planting warm kisses wherever he can reach. He inhales deeply and nuzzles you further, “You smell like sunlight.” He whispers, more to himself than to you but you hear it anyway.

Your heart thuds painfully in your chest. It’s a statement that on the surface doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, but you can hear the awe in it. When a person has been sitting out in the sun for a while you can almost smell the warmth of the sun on their skin. It smells like happiness and freedom. Like laughter and staying out all day, playing in the yard. Like sore muscles the next day but laughing it off anyway because all that mattered was that you had fun, that you lived. It smells like a life well lived and no regrets. He is silent as he rests his forehead in the crook of your neck, tightening his embrace and simply breathing you in. “Hanzo—“ you start, unsure of what to say, but you feel you should say something: thank you, I love you, marry me. Okay, so maybe that last one was a little fast, but again nothing about your relationship had been normal, why start now? You open your mouth to speak again but instead are interrupted by a pop and screech of a firework being set off. You jump slightly, looking up at the sky with wide eyes as the colors burst into life.

Hanzo takes a deep breath and laughs, pulling away just enough so that he can somewhat see your face. “Looks like it’s started.” He murmurs, nosing just below your ear. You shiver involuntarily. Already this year is a marked improvement from the last. Before all the physical contact between you had been hand holding, barely, until he had kissed you. Now you’ve shared many kisses and the night has only just started.

You look up and watch the fireworks bloom in the sky, one after another. The individual sparks are as vibrant as the stars on this cloudless night, shimmering and shining before fizzling out into nothingness. In the distance you can see people running around with sparklers, or simply waving them around to make shapes or letters. You see glow sticks hung about people’s necks and wrists and in their hands as they walk through the crowds. The stalls are crowded now too, each vendor hurriedly handing out goods to waiting eager hands. Small children shriek and giggle, running under legs and between feet, chasing each other through the streets. Dogs bark in the distance, put off by the loud booms above, and smaller pops can be heard from people setting off their own little fireworks to join in on the celebration. You notice all of these things now; you can focus on the merriment and laughter around you now. You’re warm and safe in the arms of the man you love, the man who loves you. It’s so much more than you ever expected and you close your eyes, willing away the wetness gathering at the corners.

Hanzo has shifted his arms so they are no longer holding yours down, slipping them around your midsection. Lifting yours you put them overtop his and lean back against him comfortably. His arms slip down farther, his thumb lightly stroking your hipbone and you open your eyes to watch the fireworks once more, laying your head on his shoulder. He brushes his lips over a lingering bruise at the juncture between your shoulder and neck. The gesture makes heat pool in your gut, remembering what that bruise is from. He covers fully, the shape of the bruise suspiciously perfect in comparison to the shape his lips take on you now. Sighing softly you tilt your head to the side, allowing him more access to your neck. He hums his gratitude and kisses softly up your neck to your ear. Nipping playfully at the shell he whispers, “You’re not watching the fireworks.” Your eyes snap open. When had they slipped shut?

You huff in irritation. Fuck it. You’ve seen fireworks before. That wasn’t what you were trying to recreate tonight anyway. It was the atmosphere and you’ve achieved that, now all that’s left to do it fix what should have been. “They’re not nearly as entertaining as you.” You say with a nonchalant shrug. “Besides, you’re the one who’s distracting me.” You accuse slyly.

Hanzo laughs quietly in your ear, “Fair enough.” He hums in agreement, mouthing at your ear. As soon as his lips leave your ear you shiver from the loss of warmth, the somewhat chilly night air cooling the wetness he has left there. You gasp when he moves them down to your throat, over your pulse point. It’s probably your biggest weakness, ironically, in more ways than one. You remember Hanzo once telling you that he liked the way you squirmed and gasped whenever he kissed you there and that he liked to taste the beat of your heart as it accelerated for him. You groan when he sucks lightly at the skin, pulling ever so slightly with gentle suction. You arch your back when he flicks his tongue out and he moves one of his hands out from under yours and cups a breast, kneading it over the fabric of your shirt, under the jacket on your shoulders.

Biting your lip you shift your hips back against him where you can feel the beginnings of his arousal. This was certainly not what happened last year. In fact it’s so far removed from anything you would have expected of him last year that it’s almost laughable. He’s come so far and that confidence that exudes from him in waves now is so unbelievably sexy. His free hand is still at your hip, his fingers stroking lightly at the bone there, making your shirt ride up to reveal a sliver of skin. Your hands grip his arm tightly, your hips undulating against him almost of their own volition. The more turned on Hanzo gets the more he likes to use his teeth, usually on your neck because he knows you’re sensitive there. That and because he told you once that because he was raised to kill he knows the throat is one of the most vulnerable places, if not the most vulnerable place, on a human. He likes knowing you trust him enough to bare your throat to him so easily. He leans his head forward more and nips quickly just to the side of your jugular. He really does sometimes remind you of an apex predator. Like the way he looks at you when he wants you, his eyes tracking your every move, his body poised to strike when the moment is right.

You’re getting impatient now, the heat radiating through your body pooling between your thighs. You feel too warm now, the jacket is overkill, but each time the breeze blows it cools your neck where his lips have been and you shiver. “Hanzo…” you groan breathlessly, lolling your head to the side. The instant you feel him smirk a switch flips inside of you. Huffing disagreeably you put your hand on top of the one that rests on your hip. Leaning back against him you take his hand and guide it passed the waistband of your pants into your panties. His smirk widens into a toothy grin and he closes his mouth over your earlobe just as he moves his hand between your thighs. His fingers are warm and calloused, the rough pads of the tips providing a delicious friction against your wet folds. Slipping his fingers farther down he teases your entrance only to swipe back up to your clit, stroking in firm circles. He’s not playing around tonight, his deft fingers giving you exactly the pressure you’re craving. Hanzo has never been particularly gentle, though sometimes he tries for you, but not he’s even less so: biting and sucking harshly on any skin he can reach, grinding his erection against your ass, his fingers rough and fast on your clit. You reach out and grip the metal railing in front of you, your knuckles white on the browning rusted metal. “Hanzo…” you implore with a whine. You know he knows what you want just by the way you say his name, but even so your body is giving him every clue as well. The only response you get is a rumbling growl from him before he thrusts a finger inside of you.

You almost throw your head back, but remember he’s too close to you at the last second, instead dropping the back of your head heavily down onto his shoulder. Moaning in satisfaction you shift your weight, spreading your legs just a little farther apart. “Careful. Keep moaning like that and everyone below us will hear you over the fireworks, they’ll know exactly what I’m doing to you.” He chuckles quietly in your ear.

It takes you several moments to actually formulate a response considering you’ve been so wound up all day, eagerly anticipating the night to come. “I don’t care.” You gasp, grinding your hips down onto his hand, the heel of his palm providing some much needed friction on your clit. “Let them hear. Let them hear how badly I want you, how good you make me feel.” Moaning, you add a whining undertone to the last part of your sentence. Hanzo growls in your ear, roughly thrusting a second finger inside of your tight heat. The keening sound of your pleasure is drowned out by the screech of another firework being shot off into the sky.

He is not gentle as he pumps his fingers into your aching cunt, curling his fingers and stroking your inner walls. That’s fine. It’s more than fine really, what you want is hard and fast and fuck you want him so badly but you don’t want this to end yet. “You would like that, wouldn’t you? To have everyone hear the way you moan and scream my name.” he coos sweetly, his free hand leaving your breast to wrap around your throat. He applies no pressure as he tilts your head to the side, exposing the expanse of your neck.

“Yes.” You gasp, unashamed to admit you would scream for him at the top of your lungs if only he asked you to. There is a pleasant rumble in his chest that might have been satisfaction but your every thought of it is wiped from memory as soon as his teeth sink fully into your shoulder, over a fading bruise. Hanzo has never been shy about leaving his mark on you, not since that night last year, not since the very first one. Back then when he noticed the mark the next day he physically flinched and refused to look at you for the rest of the day. It hurt to see, but you knew he needed time so you covered it with stage make-up, unwilling to just have it taken care of by Dr. Ziegler. It was your only real reminder of what transpired that night, a physical mark you could touch with your fingers and still feel the dull ache. Every night until it faded you would press your fingers to it, intentionally making it hurt, just to make certain you hadn’t dreamed the whole thing. But that was foolish wasn’t it? Even your dreams wouldn’t have been that cruel.

You forgave him a long time ago, but the memory still burns in the back of your mind. It surfaces now as he marks you again, pulling at your skin with lips and teeth and tongue. You fully expect it to ruin the mood, to remind you of how empty you felt when he left you alone and confused on a rooftop not so different from the one you stand on now. But it doesn’t. Instead your mind gives you flashes, snippets of what happened then, not a single one of the memories as crystal clear as they had been before. Instead you see the countless times he has marked you since then, his lips pressed to your flesh over and over until you drown in the all-consuming love he bears for you. You remember the marks he left all over your body the first night you spent together. You remember the way he looked at them with pride and no small amount of hungry possessiveness in his eyes. You remember the reverent way he traced them lightly with his fingertips, with his lips and tongue. Each mark he leaves on you is undeniable proof that you are wanted, that he wants you and that he loves you.

Your breathing quickens as his tongue laves over the mark on your neck languidly. His fingers never cease their fervor, taking you higher and higher, pushing you towards that peak. They curl and thrust and tantalize, massaging your inner walls with expert precision designed to wring the most pleasure from you. With his arm pressed firmly against your front you can feel his muscles flex with the force he uses to pleasure you. You grip the railing tighter, as tightly as the coil inside you is wound, ready to break and snap taut. You are not even trying to stifle the litany of moans and gasps falling from your lips, nor are you trying to stifle the symphony of his name. Abruptly you remember he asked you something and you rush to give him an answer that will please him, an answer that will make this delicious torture end and give you the release you so desire. “I want it, Hanzo please…” you beg, not entirely certain what you’re begging for.

You can barely remember what he had said anyway. Something about you wanting passerby below to know what he was doing to you up here. You have to admit the thought does excite you. A cool night breeze drifts by, lifting the ends of your hair and brushing across your cheeks. You want to come like this, with his arms around you, your voice free to carry on the wind and alert anyone nearby that your lover pleases you well. With the way you’re constantly moaning his name they’ll know exactly who pleases you so well. Not that any random citizen of this city would know Hanzo by name, you are here as part of an illegal vigilante organization, there was an unspoken rule of a need for secrecy. But that’s not the point. The point is that by the rules of his upbringing displaying any sort of affectionate emotion so freely where anyone might see or hear was very uncommon. That he feels so free now to be able to touch you so boldly and even teasingly encourage you to scream for him is incredible to you.

“Then come.” He demands, pressing closer to you, his fingers moving on a single-minded mission. “Come for me and let me hear how badly you want it.” His voice is hoarse with desire, his hips undulating against your ass as he brings you to the release you’re fully prepared to beg for. You open your mouth to scream for him, to call his name louder than you had all night, without a care in the world for anyone who hears it. But before you can you hear a groaning creak and then a deafening snap.

And suddenly you’re falling. No really. That isn’t some bullshit metaphor for an orgasm. For a terrifying split second the world drops out from under you. Your leaning your full weight against the rusted railing has caused it to snap under you, falling to the alleyway below with a resounding clang that rivals the fireworks above. In an instant the pleasure high is gone, replaced by a chilling fear so intense that the sweat that prickles down your back feels like ice being poured down your shirt. But faster than you can even really comprehend in your dazed and feared state Hanzo moves his hand from your throat to your shoulder and his other hand swiftly pulls out of your pants to wrap around your waist. Then he’s pulling you back with a grunt, in a move eerily similar to some kind of suplex. You both fall heavily to the ground, Hanzo taking the brunt of the impact with you landing on his chest, panting heavily.

The whole situation is so unbelievably ridiculous that you can’t stop the roaring laughter from escaping your lips. Hanzo groans underneath you, his arms still wrapped securely around you. “Why are you laughing?” he grumbles. “You do know you almost just died.” He remarks in a deadpan voice. You can hear the exasperation in his voice but it only makes you laugh harder.

“I know. But first of all we almost die all the time and second of all I almost just died mid orgasm. It’s fucking ridiculous.” You say with a snort, folding your arms over your stomach and giving in to the laughter overtaking you.

You feel Hanzo’s chest deflate as he scoffs, loosening his grip on you and shifting to roll you onto your back on the ground. He hovers over you and watches you giggle madly for a moment. When he doesn’t speak you put a hand over your mouth, suddenly self-conscious. “You’re ridiculous.” He mumbles, but there’s not heat in it. He strokes lovingly down your cheek with the backs of his fingers.

You smile up at him and lean into his touch, your hands falling to rest beside your head. “Maybe, but you love me anyway so who’s the truly ridiculous—mmph!” he kisses the words from your lips and you remember for a moment that while you’ve felt his lips on you often in the last hour that it hadn’t been on your lips. You melt into his kiss, content to twine your tongue with his lazily on a rooftop in summer air while explosions of light bloom in the sky.

But the fire that he built within you just moments ago returns in full force, blazing inside of you like an inferno. He is bracing his weight on his arm to the side of your head, but you can still feel the tautness of his body against your own, the heat radiating from him seeming to seep into your bones. He pulls away, just barely, so he can speak against your lips, “A fair point. Maybe we’re both ridiculous.” He cups your cheek fully with his hand. “All I know is that I’ve never felt freer than when I am with you.” He whispers, barely audible over the boom of the fireworks.

Your heart aches with love for him, feeling so full it could burst at the seams. You lift your hands and hold his face between them tenderly, as if he were something precious to you. And he is. Hanzo means more to you than you would have ever thought possible. All you want for him is happiness and love and peace of mind. If you can offer even just a little of that by being with him then you count yourself truly blessed. He closes his eyes at your touch, nuzzling lightly against your left palm. You bring his lips back to yours and kiss him sweetly. The kiss is chaste, innocent and pure in its unconditional love, but does not stay that way for long. His lips coax yours open easily and he thrusts his tongue into your mouth, hungrily seeking yours.

He moans into the kiss and you move your hands down to his chest to feel the vibrations. Your fingertips ghost over his pecs, and he shudders when you accidentally bump his nipple piercing, his lips breaking from yours with a hot gasp. He was always sensitive to touch, but now even more so, with the bar going through his flesh. It’s easy enough work to tug at the hem of his shirt, pulling it up enough to expose his chest. You can see the beginnings of his tattoo at his shoulder, but that’s not what captures your attention. You look back up at his face and very purposefully circle your thumb around his nipple. He gasps and purses his lips immediately afterward, his cheeks dusted with pink.

You feel your lips start to quirk upwards. He was so very adamant about you making all the noise you wanted and yet here he is stifling his own sounds. That just won’t do, you decide. Ducking quickly enough so that he cannot stop you, you scoot down and flick your tongue across his nipple. This pulls a lovely surprised moan from his lips and you see his arm tremble ever so slightly. “What are you—“ He is cut off by another groan as you scrape your teeth over the metal pierced flesh. He does not try to speak beyond that, seemingly losing all the protestation in him when you fulling enclose his nipple with your lips. The metal is warm, heated by his natural warmth and smooth against your tongue. You flick the bar with your tongue, causing it to pull at his nipple just so. Your free hand is teasing the other side, light feathery touches meant to entice.

Hanzo breathes out shakily, sliding his fingers into your hair with a muttered curse. Without warning he tugs sharply on your hair and drags you back to his mouth, taking advantage of the moan that leaves you when he pulled your hair to slip his tongue passed your lips. You remember tasting desperation on his lips last year. Desperation and fear. And while you can still taste desperation there, the accompanying emotion isn’t fear, it’s love. He kisses you roughly, biting and sucking at your lips, but his thumb strokes your cheekbone softly. The touch is so gentle compared to the hungry way he’s kissing you that it makes your heart kick into overdrive. You slowly slide your hands down his chest, feeling the muscles twitch under your touch and you lightly rake your nails down his abdomen. Hanzo shivers, groaning against your lips. You can feel him, hard and aching on your thigh and you figure now is as good a place as any.

When you start to undo his pants you fully expect him to stop you and say that this wasn’t the right place for that. But he doesn’t. Quite the contrary, in fact he disentangles his hand from your hair and assists you in pushing his pants passed his hips. As you wrap your hand around his erection he breaks the kiss and drops his forehead to your shoulder with a sigh. Turning your head slightly you press a kiss to his temple as you start to pump him slowly at first but with increasing speed. Both of you are too pent up now to go much slower than you already are. When he gets his bearings back he reaches for the clasp on your pants, deftly undoing it and tugging at them impatiently. You have to laugh at the pout on his face as he realizes he can’t pull your pants down with one hand. Releasing him for a moment you lift your hips just enough to push your pants down to your knees, kicking them down to your ankles. The state of undress is…somewhat awkward, but neither of you really wants to be completely naked where anyone might see.

You’re thankful for how much bigger Hanzo is than you when you drop your hips back down to the ground and feel not the cold stone below you, but the fabric of his jacket. At least you won’t have asphalt burn on your…ass. Something about this entire night has been so intrinsically silly that you can’t seem to wipe the smile off your face as you kiss him again. He grunts into the kiss, not quite expecting it and also probably just realizing how awkward the positioning was. But you don’t mind. Sex is messy and awkward and leaves you with cramps in various parts of your body. In a way that’s what makes it enjoyable. It’s not supposed to be perfect, and that’s what’s perfect about it. Hanzo shifts, from straddling your hips to wiggling himself between them. You bite your lip to stave off the laughter, but when he looks up at you and sees your eyes shining he can’t seem to hold it in either. “This is stupid.” He snorts, dropping his forehead to yours, chuckling quietly.

“I know.” You snicker, trailing your hand down his chest. “But I still want you. Here. Now.” You murmur, the laughter subsiding from your tone as you take him in your hand again. Hanzo inhales sharply, the hand not bracing his weight stroking up your inner thigh. You hum softly as his thumb traces the apex of your thigh, a spot he knows to be sensitive. Then he lightly grazes his fingertips over your skin, bringing his thumb to brush over your clit. Now it’s your turn to breathe in sharply, your grip on him tightening slightly. You tease him right back by rubbing your own thumb over the bars on his shaft. He groans, slotting his mouth over yours, nipping at your lower lip. Slipping his fingers down he moans to find you still wet and ready for him.

Hanzo presses down onto you and you take comfort in his weight on you. Guiding his cock between your legs you press him against your core and he ruts against you eagerly, slicking himself in your wetness. It’s a poor way of lubricating one’s self, yes, but it does the job well enough. Besides you’re far too impatient to wait until you’re back at base to feel him. The persistent ache in your core tells you that you need him now or you might go mad. Snaking your hand down again you guide him to your entrance, gasping into his mouth when he enters you.

You’re only vaguely aware that the fireworks are still shooting off above you, but when you open your eyes you find one of them blooming in the sky, bursting into a thousand sparks of colors. Stupidly, you think that’s probably a suitably cheesy metaphor for how it feels to have him inside of you. The angle is awkward, with him being trapped between your legs and your pants around your ankles but you can’t bring yourself to care. He moves at a steady pace, easing into you until he’s completely hilted. When he is both of you sigh in relief, in almost perfect unison. Bringing your hands up to his face you cup it gently and look up into his eyes. When he looks back at you, you bite your lip. “Do not start laughing.” He scolds, probably trying to sound firm, but only succeeding in sounding mildly exasperated.

Unfortunately his command has the opposite effect, a bubble of laughter working its way passed your lips. He sighs, allowing you to laugh freely for a moment before surging forward and capturing your lips. You still giggle into the kiss and he growls, pulling his hips back and thrusting them forward suddenly. Now your laughter fades, replaced by a pleasured gasp, your head falling back to the ground. “Fuck…” you moan as he sets up a steady rhythm, and you drag your nails down his chest again making him shiver in delight. No matter how many times you feel him inside of you it’s never enough, you always crave him the moment he leaves. Each time he pulls back only to thrust forward leaves you aching for him, moaning unabashedly and tossing your head from side to side.

His thrusts started slow, in a set rhythmic pattern but they don’t stay that way for long. The more you moan for him the harder he pumps into you, and you are moaning. A lot. He leaves your mouth free to cry out for him as he leans down and nips at your jawline. “Fuck, Hanzo, you feel so good.” You moan wantonly. It’s a stupid statement. Obviously he feels good, that’s the whole point, and besides that you’ve told him that a thousand times in a thousand different situations, but it rings true every single time.

Since you had been stopped just before coming you are far too close now to care that what you’re saying is foolish. You don’t care. You beg him to go faster, harder, more. And he does not disappoint. Shifting his weight again he snakes his free hand between your bodies and rubs vigorous circles around your swollen clit. Your thighs tremble and your cunt clenches around him. Hanzo pulls away from your throat to watch you come undone, never ceasing in his relentless onslaught of your body. You bite your lip to stifle your cry of pleasure but decide at the last second to just let it go. You cry out his name to the night sky just as another firework booms in the distance, drowning out your voice. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that he hears you, watching you intently as you unravel beneath him.

When his thrusting becomes too much of an overstimulation you whine and he starts to pull back, but you lock your legs around his waist and put your arms around his back. “No. I’m fine. I want this. I want you.” You breathe, still dazed from your pleasure high. Hanzo bites his lip as if he might protest but decides not to, leaning forward to brace his weight on both arms. You cling to him as he fucks into you with harsh, deep thrusts. For a few moments it’s too much, your body wanting to move away from him and yet take everything he has to give. You fight the dual sensations, gripping him tighter as he moves inside of you. He shifts, pulling away from you and sitting up on his knees. Gripping your hips he thrusts into you desperately, chasing his own end.

The uncomfortable feeling doesn’t last long and sooner than you would have expected you’re moaning for him again. Your body takes him readily now, your cunt aching pleasantly with each thrust. When you manage to focus your eyes on him you see sweat beading on his brow, strands of hair falling across his forehead. You want to brush them back, and touch his face but you refrain, instead reaching up and raking your nails down his chest. Hanzo shuts his eyes against the pleasure threatening to take him, his cock pulses inside of you, and the grunt that passes his lips turns to a needy whine. You press your heels into the small of his back as much as you are able, urging him on. “Come for me, Hanzo. Please…please…” you beg, beginning to feel the coil in your gut tighten again. He drops his head back and groans, his shoulders tensing as he sheathes himself fully inside of you, spilling there, painting your inner walls.

He thrusts lazily into your heat a few more times, and you intentionally clench around him. He hisses in delayed pleasure and skims his hands down your thighs. He looks down at you and you bite your lip, pink dusting your cheeks. He cocks an eyebrow but says nothing as he moves his hand back to your clit, drawing achingly slow circles around it. The whine that leaves you makes him chuckle quietly and he relents, giving you firm sure strokes that have you writhing in seconds. It doesn’t take much to bring you over the edge again, your body already begging for release and you come with a bitten off cry. Hanzo grunts when you tighten around him again, but stays with you until your body relaxes and the pleasure fades.

He pulls out of you slowly, gently and tucks himself away. He moves off of you to let you get up and belatedly you realize you probably shouldn’t have let him come inside you this time. With nothing to clean yourself up with it’s going to leave a horrid mess in your pants. Fuck it, you decide. You need a shower when you get back anyway, and tomorrow is laundry day. With a shrug you pull your pants up as high as they will go, stand and wiggle them back over your hips. Hanzo bites his lip and gives you an apologetic look, “Sorry, I probably shouldn’t have…” he mutters, gesturing to your lower half vaguely. He looks away and in even in the dark you see the blush on his cheeks.

“You just fucked me on a rooftop where literally anyone might be able to see us and you’re embarrassed about coming inside me?” you scoff lightly, giving him an incredulous look and folding your arms across your chest. His cheeks flush darker and he pouts sullenly. Taking pity on him you close the distance between the two of you and kiss one of his burning cheeks. “It’s fine. Really. I’ve been messier.” You smirk, delighting in the way his eyes widen and he looks away from you again.

Sighing heavily and deciding there was no point in getting worked up over it he puts his hands on your hips. “So, better than last year?” he asks with a tilt of his head. The way he says it is meant to be a joke, but you can see the underlying anxiety and fear in his expression. He still beats himself up over that night, you know, but really he shouldn’t. If anything you were just as much to blame for what happened than he was. You pushed him and he snapped and did something he might not have done if you hadn’t pushed him so far.

But that’s the point. You cup his face gently in both hands. “What happened last year is on both of us. I am not blameless in my own heartache.” You say firmly, but his eyes are still guarded and wary. This time you sigh heavily, “If it had never happened we may never have gotten together at all. Sometimes your heart needs to break in order to heal the right way. We found each other in the end, and that’s all that matters.” You murmur, standing on the tips of your toes to kiss his forehead. When you pull away you see the lines around his mouth have relaxed and his shoulders are no longer carrying their previous tension. You tilt your head and smile at him, “Yes, love, better than last year.” You can’t help but tease.

Hanzo snorts and presses his forehead to yours. You are content to stay there for a few moments before saying, “We should really head back though, this is starting to get uncomfortable.” You say with a snicker, biting your lip to hold in your laughter. He squawks and pulls away from you quickly, looking anywhere but your face. You laugh loudly and press a kiss to his cheek as you walk passed him towards the door leading to the stairs. The opposite way of how you got onto the roof. He follows behind you silently, but as you open the door he slips his hand into yours, entwining your fingers together. You flash him a grin over your shoulder and hear the loudest boom you’ve heard all night.

Hanzo turns with you to watch the biggest firework of the night burst in the sky, smaller ones being shot off to frame it on either side. You don’t remember seeing much of the fireworks last year, too wrapped up in your own head. But now you think you can appreciate the beauty of them. “I’m glad we did this.” he says quietly from beside you. When you turn to look at him he is looking directly at you and not the last fireworks of the night, blooming in the sky one after the other, an encore of sorts.

You’re fully aware of the gentle look you give him when you say, “Me too.” You don’t regret what happened last year, even if it hurt like hell. As you look at Hanzo you don’t think of the way you cried yourself to sleep that night. You think instead of every night since winter you’ve fallen asleep safe and warm in his arms and every morning you’ve woken to the very same thing. Relationships aren’t perfect. They never have been and they never will be, but the stupid fights you have and the pain is only temporary. The love and warmth from him, you know will last forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was so hard to write even though this was the original idea I had when I started this fic. I rewrote it three times before I got the finished product you see here. I hope it's to everyone's liking. Sorry for the late update, as well, I've been sick for a few days and also doing house work so I've had no time to write. This chapter is a bit shorter than the others given chapter 3 was originally supposed to be a flashback in this chapter but I decided to post them separately. 
> 
> I hope you guys will stick around for the last chapter! And if you're interested I have two fic ideas lined up after this one ;)
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr!](http://minakushi.tumblr.com/)


	5. Autumn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What fears plague a haunted man in the dead of night? ALTERNATIVELY: Fuck the pain away.

You wake with a start, a tight, crushing pain working its way around your ribs. Still half asleep and trying desperately to gasp in air you claw at the constrictions around you, whining when they only tighten. Dragged from your sleeping daze you vaguely realize the heat at your back. Where had you fallen asleep? Oh, that’s right, in your bed. The bed you share with—oh shit. “Hanzo.” You gasp, realizing that what’s gripping you so tightly is him, with his arms wrapped around you. You try to turn in his grasp, but he allows for no movement, only holding you fast, his entire body tense. “Hanzo, love, you have to wake up.” You say a little more urgently. You swear you can hear your ribs creaking and groaning under the strain of his embrace. He whines and buries his face into the back of your neck, breathing hard and mouthing something you can’t quite catch against your skin. His palms are flat on either side of you, pressing and pushing at your sides until you’re sure you’ll have bruises in the perfect shape of his hands. He is overly warm, no, he feels like a furnace at your back, the fires of his torment licking at you as he clings desperately to your frame. He is drenched in sweat, his brow slicking the back of your neck when he tosses his head. His grip on you started out uncomfortable and somewhat painful but now you are fighting to breathe, dragging in air whenever you can. “Hanzo, please, wake up! You’re hurting me!” you whimper, pulling at his hands desperately, trying to throw him off.

And just like that the weight is gone. He pulls from you so fast the momentum sends you tumbling to the floor. You land hard on your knees and bite back a yelp of pain, gasping and filling your lungs with the oxygen you had been deprived of. You pull yourself up to a sitting position, using your elbows propped on the bed to hoist yourself up, wincing at the dull ache in your sides. Your own pain is of little consequence at the moment, you need to check on—“Hanzo.” You murmur quietly, almost more to yourself than to him. Sitting in front of you with his back to the wall and his face in his hands is the man you love, rocking back and forth and muttering to himself. Quickly, you scramble up onto the bed, rather gracelessly but you can’t bring yourself to care.

This isn’t the first time this has happened. Though Hanzo is healing, slowly, he still wakes from nightmares every so often and you are always there to offer him comfort if he needs or wants it. But it’s been awhile since they have affected him so thoroughly. Instead of reaching for him instantly like your body craves to do you place your hands on your knees, palm up and call out to him softly. He doesn’t seem to hear you the first time so you say his name just a little louder, barely raising your voice. And he flinches, pulling his hands away from his face just enough to uncover his eyes. His breathing is erratic and his gaze is unfocused for a moment but it soon snaps to you. His eyes widen when they settle on you, looking at him imploringly. He scrambles back, as close to the wall as possible, his knees pulled up to his chest and his hands pressed to the wall beside him. “I…” he starts breathlessly. “I almost hurt you-- I did hurt you, I—“ he cuts himself off, covering his mouth with his hand. “I’m…so sorry I didn’t mean…” he can only get a few words out at a time, rushed as they are, before he has to cut himself off, gasping for air.

Curling in on himself, Hanzo places his elbows on his knees and digs his fingers into his loose, sweat-damp hair and grips it tightly. Now he mutters to himself in hushed, rapid-fire Japanese, pulling at his own hair and slamming the heel of his palm into his temple over and over. You know from personal experience that you shouldn’t touch him without asking first and moving slowly but the way he’s berating and hitting himself isn’t good. You also know that if you let him go on like this he’ll close up, shut you out and disappear for a few days. He always comes back but he always comes back looking haggard and broken. “Hanzo, look at me,” you plead quietly, leaning forward just slightly. He doesn’t and instead screws his eyes shut, as if ignoring you altogether. It stings but you know he doesn’t mean it, not like that so you ignore your own feelings for the moment. “Please, let me help you.” You rasp, tears threatening to choke you, but you don’t let them fall. This isn’t about you, he needs you now and you absolutely cannot let him down.

Peeking his eyes open at the sound of your pleading voice he nods minutely, chomping on his lower lip so hard you’re afraid he’ll draw blood. Slowly, you crawl towards him, shifting behind him so that he’s nestled between your legs, his back to your chest. Hanzo had never had anyone to help him through his panic attacks before so the first time it happened he hid it from you. You had never been a light sleeper so he stealthily hopped out of bed and into the bathroom. You found him hours later passed out against the cool tile of the bathroom floor. You didn’t accuse him of hiding anything from you, like he feared you would. Instead you were there for him without a second thought, asking if he still felt the effects of the panic attack. He told you later that he was surprised you didn’t see him as weak and run from him, but you told him that what you saw wasn’t weakness but a vast strength. He had been going through this all alone before and you couldn’t imagine how hard it must have been. You were also sure to tell him that there was no shame in fear, or nightmares, or panic attacks. It had taken you far too long to realize that yourself.

The first panic attack shared between the two of you was actually yours. You had managed to tell him through gasping breaths to sit behind you like you’re doing now. As you remember that moment you guide your hands to the places you know will calm him. Your right hand rests over his heart and your left presses lightly at his sternum. With Hanzo having such broad shoulders you have to sit on your knees to drape your arms over his shoulders, but comfortability is a small price to pay to help him in this moment. His breathing is still coming in heavy pants and his body is tensed, whether for fight or flight you are unsure. Resting your forehead on the nape of his neck you murmur quietly to him, “Breathe with me, Hanzo. In and out with the rise and fall of my chest.” One of his hands falls from his face to clutch desperately at your arm, his fingers probing to find your pulse, beating steadily in your wrist.

It takes a few moments. He has to force himself to hold his breath and match the flow of your breathing. You can feel his heart pounding underneath your palm, tripping over itself, trying to beat a hole through his ribcage. On every careful exhale he mutters something you can’t quite catch, your knowledge of Japanese is rudimentary at best, everything you know having been absorbed through a verbal sort of osmosis from living with him. And he is speaking too fast for you to understand. It’s likely he’s not even talking to you, so you only nuzzle him lightly, “That’s it, love, focus on me. My breathing, my voice, my heartbeat. I know you can feel it.” You whisper soothingly, your thumb stroking his bare chest. The nights are cooler now and as his panic subsides the sweat on his body dries, chilling and prickling at his flesh. He shivers in your grasp, his breathing no longer choked and harsh. It still takes effort for him to fill his lungs completely before exhaling but his breathing isn’t stuttering as much as it was before.

You don’t know how long you sit there, holding him and whispering calming words; long enough for your knees to ache, long enough for the moon to have risen full and bright in the middle of the sky. But you sit and wait patiently for him to calm. For a while after his breathing has returned to some semblance of normalcy and his pulse is no longer thundering he just sits there in your arms, his thumb pressed to the inside of your wrist, his head lying on your shoulder. His eyes are closed and he has not spoken in some time, in neither English nor Japanese. You don’t push him, and he doesn’t pull away, and that’s perfectly fine. No one has the right to tell you that you’ve spent too much time recovering from a panic attack, and you know how awful they can be so you wait. You wait and once his heartrate has slowed you switch hands, placing your left over his heart and your right reaching up to stroke his sweat-damp hair. He releases a shaky breath and leans into your touch, screwing his eyes shut as if he could block out his own mind, his own memories and nightmares if only he tried hard enough.

Though he is mostly calm now, his grip on your arm does not lessen, his fingers digging almost painfully into your wrist, desperate in their search for your continued pulse. Hanzo has always been this way. When you are injured in battle the first thing he does is check your pulse. It seems a normal enough thing to do, checking for signs of life from a fallen comrade and at first you had thought nothing of it. But the first time he woke from a nightmare he did not wake you, at least not at first and certainly not intentionally. You woke to the feeling of his fingers on your wrist and his lips pressed to your pulse point, as if he could drink in your heartbeat if he stayed there long enough. He has always taken comfort in the beat of your heart, knowing it has not stopped puts him at ease. As one who was trained to take life he knows how easily it can be destroyed. One moment a pulse beats, strong and sure, and the next it is silent, its life blood spilling through its veins, staining the skin and the ground beneath it, never to beat again.

You murmur his name quietly, brushing off the bangs plastered to his forehead. He tenses, if only for a split second, then relaxes and pulls your hands from his chest. He sits sideways, so that you may see his profile as he lifts your right wrist to his lips and holds it there. “I…” he croaks, his voice all but gone from his body’s assault on itself. He clears his throat, clenching his jaw and tries again, “I did not mean to hurt you.” His grip on you tightens for half a heartbeat , showing you his sincerity. Closing his eyes again he takes a deep, steadying breath and turns to face you fully. Your left hand falls limply into your lap and you wait for him to speak, keeping your expression soft and open. He bites his lip, and when he speaks again his voice is broken and choked with tears, “Please forgive me. I could never forgive myself if I hurt you.” He looks so forlorn as he lifts his free hand to your face, hesitating, brow furrowed as if he is afraid to touch you now.

Carefully, deliberately, you lean into his touch and offer him a smile, “There is nothing to forgive.” His brow twitches, his mouth opening to protest but you amend yourself before he has the chance. “Even if there were,” you say, reaching up to cup his cheek with your own free hand. “I have already forgiven you.” You say firmly, thumb stroking back and forth against his cheekbone.

He looks away from you now, head dropping as if in supplication. You can see the muscles in his jaw work and flex, Hanzo fighting off his own doubts and traitorous tongue. His fingers curl against your cheek, wanting to hold you tighter but afraid to touch; afraid that his grip will be too tight and crush the life from you as he nearly did when he awoke. He does not forgive himself, you realize sadly. And he won’t, not tonight, not yet. His hand falls away from your face and he slumps forward, burying his face into the crook of your neck. His arms close around you tentatively, afraid of being rebuffed, afraid of hurting you again. But once they are wrapped securely around you, you snuggle down into his warmth, showing him that you are not afraid, showing him that he still has your unconditional love and trust. He is still for a moment, not fully trusting himself with you yet, but wanting more than anything to be close to you. After a beat he decides to throw caution to the wind and wind his arms around you tightly, holding you pressed against his chest. From this position you can feel the beat of his heart. It is faster than normal, but not the erratic staccato rhythm of before. He nuzzles at your throat, his beard scratching somewhat uncomfortably against your skin but you ignore it in favor of returning his embrace.

Hanzo pulls you to the side and lays you down so that your head is comfortably situated on the pillows, his left hand skimming down your body, mapping your curves. “Hanzo?” you ask after him timidly. You are not afraid of him, only confused at this turn of events.

He does not speak for a moment, his hand resting at your thigh. He inhales deeply before speaking, “I need-” he cuts himself off. You can feel his brow furrow and his jaw work wordlessly, building the courage it takes to speak. You raise your hand from where it lays, palm flat on his back, and brush your thumb tenderly over his temple. He exhales shakily, “I need to feel you. I need to know you’re-“ he stops suddenly. The words were rushed, said all in one breath as if he could not get them out fast enough, as if he is afraid to speak them at all. And suddenly it hits you. Alive. That’s what he was going to finish that sentence with.

Your fingers flex with the near uncontrollable want to clutch him tightly, to keep him safe, tucked under your ribcage like the beat he loves so much. You wonder at how horrid his nightmare must have been that he needs to feel your life so badly. From what he has told you his nightmares vary. Most of the time they are of the night he thought he killed Genji, the night he did kill Genji, or some variant thereof. Sometimes his nightmares consist of the fear he felt since that day, always glancing over his shoulder, always doubting everything, even his own shadow. And all the self-loathing he has locked inside his soul. You remember him telling you in vivid detail of how he often has dreams of Genji’s dragon devouring him in some sort of divine retribution. Sometimes it is his own dragons that feast upon his flesh and fear and hatred. Whatever the scene that plays out, his night terrors always revolve around death. Death so potent he wakes and swears he can smell it on his clothes and permeating his skin. He scrubs at his hands for hours, trying to wash away blood that has not been there in years and yet remains there still to this day as if the deed had just been committed. As if to remind him he will never be unclean.

You swallow thickly. No tears threaten the corners of your eyes, but your throat constricts like you had just finished sobbing like a child. “I am yours.” You say in a hoarse whisper, putting emphatic inflection on each word. He does not move, save to tense slightly at your words. So you bring both of your hands to his face and lift it so that he is looking directly into your eyes. “If you need me, I am yours.” You put every ounce of conviction you can summon up into your words, needing him to understand you are in this with him.

And all at once he is kissing you. The only warning having been the small puff of breath that left him after you spoke. He kisses you like the only way he can breathe is if he steals the oxygen from your lungs. His grip on your thigh tightens and he brings it up to his waist. Taking the hint you wrap your leg loosely around him, this time brushing both of your thumbs over his temples. He sighs shakily into your mouth, releasing your thigh with a squeeze and burying his fingers in your hair, keeping your mouth on his. The more he kisses you the harder it is to breathe and even as your lungs scream for air you return his fervor tenfold. He presses his body fully against yours, craving the touch of your skin, pulling impatiently at your clothes when they deny him that.

You throw each garment off like it has personally offended you when he tugs at it. Having been dressed for sleep it’s only a few thin layers keeping the two of you apart. Your shirt is the first thing to go, tossed halfway across the room, landing somewhere with a distinct glass clatter. Idly you wonder how much force he used to throw the cloth, but that thought is driven from your mind when he divests you of your underwear, the only other item of clothing on your body. You are not ready to take him yet, all of this having happened so quickly, but he is patient in that respect. His hands trace your curves over and over, memorizing each part of you as if this is his first time feeling all of you. He shoves his pants down harshly, kicking them off and over the side of the bed. You break from his lips with a gasp, “Slow down, love, I’m not going anywhere.” You pant heavily, waiting until his eyes focus on you again before bringing his lips back to yours for a marginally slower kiss than the previous ones shared.

He breathes deeply through his nose as he kisses you, but slows his pace to match your own, gripping you tighter. You can feel the furrow of his brow as his tongue twines with yours. What his kisses now lacked in speed they more than made up for in depth. His tongue sweeps hastily over yours, pulling back for but a moment so that he can nibble at your lower lip, his fingers tightening in your hair. You let out a gasping moan as he presses down into you, heat starting to pool in your gut and seeping out between your thighs. His hips move slightly, undulating against you. You feel him, already more than half-hard and grinding against your core, teasing you, your fingers flex on his face and you drag them down, over his neck to lightly scratch your nails down his shoulders, down his arms. He shudders, groaning into the kiss, so you raise your hands back up and repeat the motion until he breaks from your lips with a primal groan. His pupils are dilated when he looks into your eyes and you wonder if it’s from his previously manic state or because of the need building within him. The fingers in your hair loosen and he tilts your chin aside and nearly lunges for your throat, not hesitating at all in marking you.

You grit your teeth and quiver beneath him, his tongue laving insistently over your pulse point. Your reactions only serve to spur him on, a growl ripping from his throat as he places searing kisses down your neck to your collar bone. His tongue traces the valleys and dips there, his teeth scraping lightly over the bone. He slips his hand down to the thigh of the leg still lying against the bed and wraps it around his waist to join the other one. He grinds his hips into yours again, gripping you tighter, holding you closer. His cock teases your labia, pressing against your clit, making you ache for more; more contact, more friction, more, more, more. The heat threatens to engulf you, turn you into a raging inferno capable of nothing but want. His lips have returned to your neck, biting and sucking new bruises atop the old ones.

You whine and he pulls back. And you can’t help but whine louder. His breath comes in harsh pants now, but he looks over you fully, observing your every reaction, taking pride in the way he can make you beg with nothing but your eyes. But it’s more than that. He watches you to see how the flesh of your chest flushes red with desire and only mild self-consciousness. He watches the shallow rise and fall of your chest, listens to the way you pant for him. He sees the half-lidded look you give him, your eyes focused on nothing but him, full of love and warmth and life. He watches you, sees all of these things to convince himself that you’re still here, that you aren’t going anywhere. He slips his hand up the side of your body, fingertips grazing your ribcage and places his palm flat in the middle of your chest, over your sternum. You are reminded of the way you held him earlier. Then you had been applying light intermittent pressure to get him to breathe deeper. Now he puts his hand there to feel your heart thundering in your chest, to feel you breathing, to feel the warmth radiating from your skin.

You are alive and real and his nightmare is not. Slowly, he slips his hand lower; just the tips of his fingers dragging tantalizingly down the skin of your stomach and lower still until two fingers dip teasingly into your wetness. With a gasp your hips buck at the first real stimulating contact of the night. His fingers dip lower, circling your entrance then he brings them back up to flick over your clit. This time you cry out, your right hand instantly going to your breast, massaging it, pulling at your nipple. The shudder that rolls through your body encourages him to shift his hand, thumbing your clit as he thrusts two fingers inside of you. His name leaves your lips in a whimper as he immediately starts pumping them in and out of your warm, wet heat. He does not take things slowly, his thumb alternating between rubbing light, barely-there circles over your clit and flicking it hard and fast. He wrings pleasure from you as easily as he always has and yet no matter how hard, how fast, how deep his fingers go it’s not enough. He is single-minded in making you cry out for him, beg for him. His eyes flick from your face, twisted in pleasure, to his fingers thrusting into you.

As your thighs start to tremble he brings his free hand up to steady one of them, squeezing lightly, dragging you closer. He marvels at the way your wetness drips down his fingers onto his palm. And the obscene sound filling the room sets his body aflame, his cock almost painfully hard now. His fingers fuck into you with renewed vigor, pushing you closer and closer to that edge. He looks only at your face now, noting all the minute changes and details as you climb higher. You can’t seem to find a satisfactory place for your hands. The sheets, your breasts, the headboard behind you. In the end you come with both hands tangled in your hair and your hips bucking wildly, chasing your high, your thighs locking around his waist, trying to pull him closer. You chomp down on your lip, groaning and gripping your hair tighter. Your hips roll in slowing waves as you come down, panting, trying to catch your breath and calm your heartbeat.

For a moment he pulls his hand away, looking at his fingers as he rubs them together, feeling the evidence of your arousal. The evidence that you are warm and alive and here with him. Feeling his hands having left you, you look up at him and see him looking at his fingers, his brow creased. Fear rises within you, the taste sharp and metallic on your tongue. Your hands lash out, both coming up to grip his. His eyes snap to yours and flash down to your joined hands. Slowly, deliberately you lift his hand to your face and pull his fingers into your mouth.

Hanzo sucks in a sharp breath, his pupils dilating until all that is left of the brown you love so much is a thin ring of color. You needed to get him out of his own head. And it worked. But now he is hungrier for you than he had been before. In an instant he is on you, slotting himself perfectly between your thighs as his mouth lays claim on your own. There is nothing slow about his movements, he craves you, needs to feel your heat surrounding him. And so without any type of warning he lines himself up with your entrance and thrusts forward. His teeth catch on your lip when you pull away to moan at the sudden intrusion, but his lips do not leave your skin, and you don’t want them to. He buries his fingers in your hair again, holding you to his mouth and supports his weight on his other arm. For one moment it feels like all of time has slowed down, moving like molasses as he holds himself still inside of you. At first you think it’s because he’s giving you a chance to adjust to him, but then you open your eyes and see the crease in his brow and the look of confused concern in his eyes. He is still afraid of himself. Afraid of hurting you and afraid of losing you. You open your mouth to console him but his features relax before you can. He gives an experimental roll of his hips that has you biting back a moan and it seems he can no longer control his desire for you. Casting his doubts and fears away he decides instead to drown himself in you, in your heat.

He is not slow and he is not gentle. When he draws back his hips he pistons them harshly into your core, over and over. It’s rough, but not painful. It’s needy, but not selfish. He drowns in you, and drags you down with him, pleasure flowing through you as easily as the blood in your veins. Though the two of you have had rough sex before it was always playful and rife with dirty talk. Now, however, he seems almost frenzied in his ardent pursuit of your body, your love, the beat of your heart. He leans over you, no, presses down into you, every possible inch of his skin in contact with yours. With each feverish pump of his hips he rubs against your clit. He cannot seem to decide between deep, harsh thrusts and shallow, fast ones but he somehow makes it work, alternating between the two. Your hands come up and bury themselves in his loose hair, your nails dragging down his scalp, down the back of his neck and down his chest. When you reach his hips you slip your hands back up and start the descent over again on his back. He shudders under your ministrations, gasping hotly into your mouth.

Hanzo revels in the way he can feel you clenching around him, as if he can feel the beat of your heart through your intimate connection. Capturing your lower lip between his teeth he hilts himself inside of you and moves his hips in a deliciously slow circle. Sweat courses down his chest in rivulets, tracing his abs and dripping down to mingle with yours. He breaks from your mouth, hips returning to driving into you deeper, harder than before, and he suckles at your neck. The sensation is much lighter than the sharp bites of before, in stark contrast to the rough way he fucks into you now. Unabashedly, he laps at the beads of sweat there, tasting the salt of your skin, his tongue flicking down to your pulse, drinking you in. The fingers tangled in your hair loosen minimally, slipping down to grip the back of your neck. His thumb strokes your jawline almost soothingly as his teeth join his lips’ assault on your throat. You gasp and groan underneath him, bucking your hips up into his as much as you can in your current position.

Usually during sex at least a few words will be exchanged: encouragements, taunts, praise, begging, anything. And yet now the two of you are silent, and comfortably so. To you it feels like no words need be said now, your bodies conveying so strongly what words would fail to even scratch the surface of. You are open to him, warm and welcoming and completely his. And he needs you, needs the touch of your skin on his own, needs your heat, needs the taste of your pulse on his tongue. You give him everything and he takes it all, but instead of being left empty and broken you feel fuller, more whole than you ever have. And then it hits you like a bolt of lightning. He takes from you and yet you are left with more than when you started. Because you give to him all too willingly, because he cannot steal what was given freely, because when he takes from you he gives right back. This is not him taking and giving nothing in return. In return for your welcoming heat he ravishes you with kisses, with a need so deep and undeniable that your own need starts to match it. The longer he stays with you the more desperate you become to feel him too.

You bring your hands back up and cup his neck. You can feel his pulse racing just as fast as yours, or maybe it’s your own that you’re feeling. You cannot tell and it doesn’t matter. Your hearts beat as one anyway. The kisses you share grow sloppy until neither of you can do it properly at all, your bodies moving in tandem, chasing an end to the all-consuming need threatening to take you and set you ablaze. Hanzo’s hands flit across your body, unable to find a satisfactory place to rest so they continue to roam, groping, squeezing, and massaging your legs, your hips, your breasts. You beg him wordlessly to finish it, to set the both of you free and after drinking the moans and pleas from your lips he increases his pace, grinding hard against you with each thrust. The total skin to skin contact stimulates your clit and makes each thrust exquisitely deep. His groans join yours, nearly eclipse them entirely as he presses his forehead to yours, breathing you in. His cock pulses inside of you and his hips stutter and you know he is dangerously close. Your body quivers under his, the heat inside you too much to bear. You cry out, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks at the overwhelming pleasure and sense of completion washing over you.

You don’t let them fall. But you encourage him to. Cupping his face in both hands like he is the most precious thing in this world to you, you bring his lips to yours, whispering against them how he is safe and loved and how you will never leave him. Your thumbs stroke over his temples as he comes with a strangled cry, his body shaking like a leaf caught in a storm. His hips slow, pumping into you a few more times, until the pleasure tapers off. Then he just stays there for a moment longer, soaking in more of your warmth while he can, catching his breath and calming himself. You are in no rush to have him off of you so you close your eyes and bask in the afterglow for now, thumbs working their way down his cheeks to his jawline, holding his face to yours tenderly.

With his heart calmed and his nigh insatiable need to feel you sated he slips out of you gently and flops gracelessly onto his side with a deflated sigh. You roll onto your side to look at him and see his eyes are closed, his breathing slowly turning back to normal. The fears are not magically completely gone, but he is far too tired now to dwell on them. They are placated for the moment, and he is pleasantly exhausted. Sensing your gaze on him he cracks his eyes open, “I am sorry.” He murmurs, reaching out to stroke your cheek with the backs of his fingers.

You catch his hand and bring it to your lips, “There’s no need to be sorry.” You shake your head at him. “This is what we do. We take care of each other. We’re there for each other.” You smile at him softly, slipping your fingers through his and squeezing for the span of half a heartbeat. He is still skeptical, a look of worry etched on his face, illuminated by moonlight. “Sleep, love, we’ll talk in the morning.” You sigh, trailing the fingers of your free hand down his face gently. The bags around Hanzo’s eyes tell you that he cannot fight you much longer and so with a purse of his lips and a sleepy nod he closes his eyes. It only takes a few moments for his breathing to become deep and untroubled, his eyes moving rapidly behind closed lids. His fingers are still tangled in yours and though you are loathe to let him go you know you need to get up and clean yourself up before falling asleep. Biting your lip you decide that there’s no harm in staying with him for just a moment longer. Your fingers fall from his face and you place your palm flat on his chest, over his heart. The rhythm in his chest is steady and calm, warmth, not heat radiating from his skin. And you realize that while he had woken up needing to feel your heartbeat, you nearly fall asleep with your hand pressed to his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> • This entire fic has been self-indulgent but this chapter more so  
> • The way reader approaches Hanzo is how I prefer to be approached when I’m having a panic attack  
> • The way reader comforts Hanzo is the way I prefer to be comforted during a panic attack, I literally cannot calm down unless someone lets me feel their heartbeat, I don’t know why  
> • This chapter is alternatively titled “fuck the pain away”  
> • It might not be a necessarily healthy way of dealing with the left over emotions from a panic attack but I do know that it helps   
> • Everyone copes differently, where I like being held that way some might find it suffocating, this is just my particular headcanon that Hanzo prefers it as well (again this is me self-projecting)  
> • Sometimes you just wanna drown yourself in someone else, y’know?  
> • Spot the dragon age 2 reference bc im a sap  
> • Hanzo does the brow furrow thing when he kisses people and you cannot tell me otherwise
> 
> Here we are at the end, guys! Hope you enjoyed this ride as much as I did! I'm so thankful for everyone who has followed this story all the way through, even though it was essentially my trial run fic and just 4 one-shots smashed into one fic haha. Sorry that this fic ended on a sort of ~serious~ note, but I was really feeling it when I wrote this, so I hope you like it all the same. Honestly though, while there will be smut in my fics in the future I'm gonna take a break on that for now because I'm getting a little burned out on it.   
> My next fic is going to have more development and plot, and I’m actually going to try and make it a slow-burn (or as slow as my impatient ass can take it) so please stick around with me and watch out for that! (As much of a sneak-peak as I can give right now is that it's set 10 years before canon, just after Genji's "death") 
> 
> Love you guys! And don't forget, you can always find my tumblr [here!](http://minakushi.tumblr.com/)


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